


Amethyst

by Kitten169



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band), Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/M, Fanfiction, Fantasy, In-Universe Supernatural Fanfiction, References to Supernatural (TV), Spinoff, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-08 12:15:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4304643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitten169/pseuds/Kitten169
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Supernatural spin off.</p><p>Kit is a seventeen-year-old teenager. But she's not just any seventeen-year-old. She knows she's not 'normal' but what she doesn't know is that her father isn't really her father and the life she's living was just a cover up to protect her true identity.</p><p>A prophecy had been written long before she was born and there is no way avoiding fulfilling it. With the help of the Winchester brothers, the angel Castiel, the King of Hell Crowley, and a few bullies-turnt-friends from school, she is about to uncover the whole truth - who she is and the kingdom she is entitled to.  But a dark force is lurking and what it wants is her blood in exchange for infinite power.</p><p>There is a bigger battle than angels and demons that will tip the balance of good and evil. One Nephilim will decide the fate of the five worlds - Heaven, Hell, Earth, Purgatory and Limbo - and claim her title. The question is: can she?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Heavy breathing.

Heavy footsteps.

Running.

     The sound of crunching leaves beneath her feet was deafening in the silence of the night but she paid no heed. Her heart was racing a mile a minute, her legs aching and begging her stop and rest. But she didn't; she couldn't. One hand was resting on her stomach, more like cradling; the other held out in front of her as she ran through the trees, half blinded by the darkness.

_Run, Haniel! I'll slow them down, give you enough time._

     Cain's last words to her reverberated in her head, the only thing that kept her forward. Tears sprang in her eyes but her vision was never clear to begin with so she didn't bother wiping them away. She blinked a few times instead and with every tear that fell, her heart broke. She would never see him again. Her hand tightened on her stomach.  _She_ will never get to know him.

     Her outstretched arm brushed something and she stopped dead in her track. She started fumbling to where she felt it, both palms now tracing the tree trunk to her left. A mark had been carved into it from months back; preparation made but never would have thought to be used this early. A sharp pain jolted through her body and she doubled over, biting on the inside of her cheeks from screaming out. She breathed in deeply, eyes screwed shut. Her right hand came over her stomach once more. It was time.

     She straightened up. She looked around the area until she spotted a charred tree not too far up, marking the entrance to a hidden hollow in the earth big enough for her to squeeze through. Quickly, she made a bolt for it as fast as her body allowed her to go now that the contraction was coming much frequent. She looked at the black hole on the ground for a second, remembering how she foolishly thought she would never have to use it. She looked up once more, scanning the area before disappearing through.

***

Dark hair, small mouth.

     Haniel carefully trace her finger across the newborn's cheek. She let out a loud sob before clamping her mouth shut again.  _Oh, Cain, she's beautiful._  Her finger softly ran from the baby's forehead down her nose and she squirmed then, scrunching her face before settling down again. She didn't cry when she came in kicking into this world but Haniel knew she was healthy. It's been a couple of hours yet the baby still slept, her tiny fingers wrapped around her own; like an anchor to her sanity. But her heart ached as she knew she won't be able to stay for long. Again, the baby fidgeted, her small hands rubbing on her cheeks. Her tiny head moved left to right, her eyelids fluttering as if she's dreaming.

     "Katarra," cooed Haniel softly. As if she was summoned, the baby's eyes fluttered opened. Two amethyst eyes stared straight into Haniel's blue ones and an understanding flickered through the younger pair. Haniel smiled though her eyes were brimming. She planted a kiss on Katarra's forehead, the spot glowing blue softly before fading away. A mother's love. Haniel whispered, "I will see you again one day, I promise."

     A crunching noise from above signalled that they were no longer alone. It also meant that their time together was up. Haniel held her baby daughter close one more time before starting the climb up out of the hollow, Katarra in her arm as silent as if she too knew what to come.

     Haniel emerged from the hole with the baby safely wrapped in the piece of cloth she had ripped from her skirt. Clutching tightly to the bundle, she looked up at the man who stood waiting two feet away, his eyebrows knitted together. They locked eyes.

     "It's time," he said, his voice barely audible.

     Haniel turned her glance back to her child, looking at her longingly. She traced her thumb on her forehead where she kissed her earlier. She took a sharp, deep breath but it felt like all the air in the world was gone and she couldn't breathe. With tears in her eyes and with her heart reduced to almost nothing, she thrust the bundle into the man's arms. She took a few steps back as if she didn't trust herself, as if she was a danger to the baby.

     "Go." Her voice came out sharp and loud, her hands in fists by her sides. "They're near. Go!"

     He was gone.

     She took another long inhale of breath, breathing out slowly as she closed her eyes. The ground beneath her started to hum and shake as their presence became closer. Both light and dark coming for her, to punish her for what she did years ago. They both knew this day would come, she and Cain were prepared for it. But years of planning didn't prepare her for the pain she felt at that moment. But that was okay. At least she had something to die for, something worth sacrificing her life for. She was ready.

     And as both light and dark came over her, she revealed the carvings on her chest and as her energy focused, she pulled out the angel blade. Katarra's face flashed across her mind and without another hesitation, she plunged the blade deep into herself, releasing the focused energy out, enough to take out half of the army and crippled the rest.

     And by then, Katarra would be long gone.


	2. Chapter 1

Another Thursday.

The school groundskeeper was busy mowing the lawn, meticulously going at it one strip at a time with a pair of noise cancelling headphones resting around his neck instead. Teenagers were randomly scattered all over the place, some in groups, some not; different conversations mixing together in the air creating that subtle background noise you hear but never paid attention to. Somewhere in the students parking area, a car had its stereo obnoxiously up loud, the bass a sort of a thump-thump-thump you can feel in your chest. By the entrance, a group of cheerleaders were handing out flyers, probably of the upcoming pep-rally, their energetic chatter annoying anyone in the vicinity.

But Kit wouldn't have heard all these. The only thing she heard was Patrick Stump strong vocal in her ears coming from the iPhone she held in the hand she had stuffed in her denim jacket pocket. Her head kept low, she walked with her eyes trained on the pavement instead, carefully making her way through the throngs of people unnoticed. But they probably do; jumping out of her way as they saw her approached. But Kit wouldn't have noticed that either. She wouldn't notice how the cheerleaders got quiet went she passed by only to go back full volume once she was out of sight. She would have though if Patrick wasn't still in full swing about being immortal, but she made sure that the list of songs went in a loop enough time to get her from the bus to her locker.

The bell rang shrilly in the background, loud enough for her to hear it and pulled out her ear buds. As she approached her locker, she breathed a heavy sigh. Michael Clifford was at his locker which happens to be her neighbour and where Michael was, trouble is not far behind. As if on cue, his posse came bounding towards him: Ashton the Oaf, Calum the Dickhead, Luke the Blonde Pole. Kit rolled her eyes, steeling herself to ignore the jocks as she unlocked her locker. As she rummaged through her stuff, she try to block out the conversation they were having right next to her; Calum bragging about some girl who he banged last night, Luke and Ashton rating some other girls that they might or might not invite to their party this weekend.

Wow, thought Kit, these guys are unbelievable. She fought the urge to roll her eyes but decided to just be quick and get the hell out of there as the halls were getting emptier by the second. Soon it would be just her and them and that doesn't seem like a pleasant thing. Then their voices died down and from the corner of her eyes she could see Calum eyeing her. Crap. She slammed her locker shut, turning around only to face Ashton and Luke. They surrounded her.

She glanced at Calum then, silently telling herself to calm down. Calum smirked.

"Running a little late, witch," drawled Calum, one elbow resting on Michael's shoulder.

"I don't have time for you, Cal, sorry," she spat back, giving Calum a once over before turning around to walk away. But Luke stood in her way, arms crossed. She looked back at Calum. "Tell your blonde pole to get out of my way."

Again, he smirked as if something was amusing him. He looked at Luke and gave a slight nod and the tall one shifted. "Freak," he breathed out.

Kit gave him a mock smile but before she walked away, she glanced at Michael who only stood by and watch, his face unreadable staring at her. Disgusted, she marched off to class. But she won't be able to get far: they had been her classmates since first grade.

 

 

History class is where all the monotonous lectures went on for hours on end, the teacher too in love with his own voice to notice that only Lucy Tan in the front row was the only one actually paying attention and even she had stopped taking down notes, only to twirl the pen in her hand. Kit was doodling on her notepad, one earbud in but not really listening to Taylor Swift. Her left hand was moving automatically, drawing. Her mind was elsewhere, wondering about her dad who left to work a case a week ago. The last time he called was three days ago to check up on her.

"Group project!"

Kit jolted back to the present and looked up. Mr. Freeman had obviously finished today's lecture and finally realised the whole class had gone to sleep. He didn't seem to care as he was writing down something on the board. "I want you all to work in groups of five and the projects you will work on together throughout the term will determine whether you'll get an A or see me again next term," he was saying. "Pick your team, hurry."

As people moved around the classroom picking out their own cliques as members, Kit sat back in her seat, her eyes roaming the room, waiting but not really anticipating to be picked. She looked down again at her notepad then stopped short. She frowned, looking at the page she had been doodling on earlier. The page was filled with gibberish and stick figures but in the middle of it, filling up the page from top to bottom was a long dark line with a broader top like a hilt to a sword. She stared at it longer; it looked like a sword with wings. Did I draw that?

"Miss Constantine?" Kit looked up to find Mr. Freeman looking at her.

"Sorry, what?" replied Kit, pulling the earbud off as subtly as she could. The teacher didn't look amused.

"Well, if you weren't so engrossed in your own notes, you would have heard me asking your opinion on joining Mr. Hood and his," he glanced at the back of the class before continuing, "team. But you missed the question so I'm assuming you're alright with that."

Kit gaped at him. "Wait, no, I-"

"Too late, Constantine," the teacher cut in. "It pays to pay attention, you know."

Kit bit on her tongue to retort back, her fists under the table. The bell rang just in time and she snatched her bag and stormed out, not bothering to look back at the jocks. She stopped by her locker to retrieve a different book for the next period, hurrying as to not bump into them again but luck wasn't on her side.

"So," Calum said as they came near her. "Your place later tonight? How's that sound?"

Kit shut her locker and turned to him. "You're not going anywhere near my place."

"Aw, c'mon," he purred. "Don't be such a bitch."

"How about that bar, Midnight?"

Both Kit and Calum turned to look at Michael but he was looking at his phone. Kit looked incredulous. "A bar? Are you serious?"

Michael looked up but not at her. He faced his friends. "Play pool while she takes notes? First game on me."

Ashton grinned. "Sounds good to me."

Calum regarded Kit from the corner of his eyes and registered the disagreement in her face. He smiled maliciously at her. "The bar it is, then."

She snorted. "Yeah, right, as if. Have fun, then." She started to walk away but Calum caught her arm.

"If you're not there then we'll tell Freeman you didn't want to cooperate as a team," said Calum in a tone of mock upset. "Simple as that, Constantine."

Kit shook off his arm. They stared at each other. She walked away.

The boys watched her go, sniggering to each other. All except Michael who stared at her for all the different reasons, his face a look of concern.

***

Midnight's.

Kit looked up at the blue neon sign and heaved a sigh. She glanced back at her phone in her hand. No text, no calls from dad. Where are you? She stuffed the phone back in her jeans pocket and made her way towards the entrance. The bouncer, a big burly man with a goatee in plaids, eyed her silently in recognition, his hands crossed in front of him. Marty nodded at her once before unhooking the rope barrier to let her through.

Once inside, Kit's eyes took only a second to adjust to the dim lighting. Most people wouldn't understand why a bar like this would even need a bouncer but Midnight has his ways and reasons and Marty wasn't just your typical bouncer. There were quite the crowd tonight, busy but not loud. The jukebox was playing in one corner, an old classic rock that no one really paid any attention too. Waitresses in cropped denim shorts and tanks so low their breasts might spill out roam around the room balancing trays of food and drinks on the palm of one hand.

Kit looked over to the bar. Every seat was occupied but no sign of the four knuckleheads. Then she remembered Michael mentioning about playing pool. She made her way to the far left side of the vast room. All four pool tables were in the middle of a game each and it took her awhile to finally make out which table the boys were at. Really, they blended in so well. Just then Luke saw her and nudged Calum in the rib. The boys looked over as she made her way to them.

"Was afraid you won't make it," said Calum with a half-smile on his face as he leaned against his stick. "Ash's not playing so you can grab one if you like."

"No, thanks," she replied curtly. She pulled up a chair from the diner area and placed it at one side of the pool table. Sitting down, she pulled out her notepad and a pen. "Let's just get on with what we're here for, shall we?"

Calum laughed. "We're here for pool."

Kit rolled her eyes. "What I'm here for."

"Right," he said, then to Michael, "You break this time. Second game."

Michael made his way to the edge of the table, his eyes locked on the racked balls as he leaned over the table to take his shot. Kit looked away, uninterested, just as the cue ball made contact with the rest, scattering the balls and pocketing a couple. "Nice shot," she said under her breath. She looked up at Michael who had his eyes on her. They locked gazes for a breath of a second before she turned back to her notepad.

Hours later when the notepad was filled with nonsense ideas, scratched out points and doodles - some of which were of the same winged sword she drew earlier over and over but in smaller sizes - Kit threw down the pen and paper onto the middle of the pool table, scrambling the game the boys were in the middle of. Calum, who was in the middle of taking a shot, straightened up and threw his hands in the air, groaning in exasperation.

"I was about to win this one, Constantine!" He threw the stick onto the table but didn't seem to make much else of a fuss. "I'm going to go get a beer."

Kit got up to stretch her legs, fuming that she had wasted time by coming here. The boys weren't really putting much effort into a topic to do a report on about the Renaissance but to be honest she too wasn't all that interested. Her dad still hasn't made contact and she was getting anxious. It was typical of him to go for longer than he said he would but this time something felt off. She tried to quell the feeling.

A hush made her look up towards the entrance where everybody seemed to be focused on. In the dim lighting, it took her awhile to make out the tall man who had just walked in, two men escorting. The tall one had a shoulder length sleeked back hair and all three were in dark suits down to the tie and shiny black shoes. The tall one, Midnight himself, was as good looking as everyone said he was with an air of authority and someone who was all too powerful. He had that look in his eyes of someone who had seen everything the universe had to offer and still wasn't impressed.

As he passed by, their eyes met, dark brown eyes to darker brown eyes, and Kit's eyebrows knitted together as her gaze trailed him up until he disappeared around the corner towards his office/chamber somewhere at the back. The moment he was out of sight, the buzz of the place started up again and even the air seemed lighter. The effect he has, mused Kit to herself as she leaned against the wall facing the room.

Calum came back then with three bottle of beers in one hand and another two in the other. He passed them around to his mates and held up one to Kit, a light smirk on his face as if challenging her to take it.

"She doesn't drink," said Michael as he took a swig on his, eyeing the bottle still in Calum's outstretched hand. "Straight edge."

Calum snorted. "Well, more for me."

"Or me," piped in Ashton.

Calum frowned at him and quickly turned to Luke who was about to say something. "Not you. You're lightweight."

They started to bicker. Kit's phone vibrated in her pocket and with her dad in mind, she fished out the phone only to find the number was an unknown one. Her stomach dropped but she answered it anyway. "Hello?"

"Is this Constantine's daughter?" An inaudible whispering and then, "Uh, Kit?"

"Who's this?"

"I'm Sam. It's about your father."

Her breathing hitched.


	3. Chapter 2

Fifteen minutes after the call and Kit sat in her chair drumming her fingers on the side of the pool table, her legs crossed and bouncing on the balls of one foot. Michael eyed her silently as he leaned against his pool stick, once awhile casting quick glances towards the entrance where her eyes seemed to be fixed. Her face looked focused but her eyes told him she wasn't really there. His eyebrows dipped just slightly, thinking.

"Hey, freak," called Calum from the other side of the pool table, across from Michael. "You want to stop that, it's kind of distracting." He indicated her drumming fingers. She just looked at him impassively but she removed her hand from the table completely. Her foot though was still tapping.

Kit shifted her attention towards the entrance of the bar once again and that was when two men walked in; one massive, the other of average height. Most of the female heads turned to gape advertently at the newcomers mostly because they looked so out of place; some sort of Calvin Klein models in a dump like this. Or a gay couple, one of the two. But Kit had a feeling that one of them was the one she talked to on the phone earlier. That feeling was confirmed when the taller one of the two spotted her and nodded to shorter one. She got up from her seat and grabbed her bagpack.

"I got to go," she said without breaking eye contact with the man from across the room. She heard Calum said something snarky but was too wired to care as she made her way towards to two guys.

Kit looked at the shorter guy. "Sam?" Then to bigger one, "Dean?"

They exchanged glanced.

"Dean," replied the shorter one. "Sam." He indicated the other.

Kit nodded in response. "Right."

From across the room, Michael kept his eye on the trio but mostly on Kit. He didn't know the two men, had never seen them. And as he watched, the guys started to leave with Kit following behind. But something in her steps made him noticed how unsure she was of the situation, of them. So why are you following them?

The purr of the Impala, the car that the boys drove, was the only sound as they sped off into the night. Under different circumstances, Kit would have been all over that classic muscle car but just then, the only thing that came to mind when she saw Dean getting into it was "Oh". Dad would have loved this car, she thought now as she sat behind Dean, looking out the window. Just as the thought occurred to her, her stomach dropped.

Sam turned in his seat to look at her. "We'll stop by your place so you can get your stuff first." He had that sympathetic look on his face, a little worried, a little concern. Actually, he looked like a puppy. Kit almost laughed at her own thoughts but stopped herself. It didn't feel right to laugh at the moment so she nodded instead.

"So you were working with my dad on a case?" asked Kit, looking from Sam to Dean through the rearview mirror.

Sam nodded. "Yeah. A Rougaru back in Illinois. He called for backup but he never showed."

Kit frowned. "Maybe he took care of it."

Sam shook his head. "We tracked his cell and found the motel he checked in along with his stuff. We found his car still parked. No sign of a break in."

"Maybe he just wasn't in that time."

Sam took a breath, his brows furrowed. "There was a recording left on his cell."

He started rummaging in the dashboard of the car and pulled out a silver flip phone but Kit didn't need anything more to know it really was her dad's. The tiny keychain that hung from it said it all; a Father's Day gift from ten years back that had stuck faithfully to the mobile phone ever since. Sam flipped it open, pressed a few buttons before holding it up. A voice started playing. Her dad.

"Sam, Dean. You were the last person I called earlier today so I'm hoping it would be you boys who find this phone and hear this message. Find my daughter. Keep her safe. At least till this twelfth. To Kit, sweetheart, the middle of the night will guide you." There was a long pause filled with heavy breathing. Kit was expecting him to say something that might tell them what happened, where he is but what came next were just him reciting her number before the recording stopped.

"That's it?" Kit looked at Sam, hoping he would say no and played a different recording but Sam looked defeated. He handed her the phone.

She looked at the screen. There really was only one recording. She pressed a few buttons to check on his messages. Nothing in his inbox or outbox to suggest a location, a case maybe that he had left for. But why would he leave his stuff behind? And his car, for that matter. She went through his calls. Nothing. Just Sam's number at the most recent ones and one from David, the guy that had contacted him about the case.

"Why would he need backup for a Rougaru?" mused Kit. Her brain was mulling over all of these information at once but it was the one thing that popped out of her mouth.

Sam heard her and shrugged. "Maybe there was more than one?"

That was unlikely. He took on a nest of vampires by himself once. He worked solo, said that things were a lot quicker that way and he was a good hunter; great at his job and an even better father. But Kit didn't say anything because she had another idea in her head.

"Maybe," spoke up Dean from behind the wheel, glancing at her through the mirror, "he didn't need backup and there was no Rougaru. Maybe he called us because he knew we'd come looking if he was a no show."

Kit raised an eyebrow. Dean just said aloud the exact same thought she had because that sounded a lot like her father. But the question is, "Why?"

"No idea, kid," answered Dean. "Maybe something was coming for him. Maybe he knew and wanted to make sure you're safe."

Kit threw her gaze out the window. Her mind couldn't work because her stomach felt queasy just thinking about what could have happened, whether if he was still...No! Don't think that! We're not sure yet.

"Kit," said Sam, his tone soft. "Why did he 'till the twelfth'? What's on the twelfth and why only till then? Is there someone you could go to? Someone on holiday that might be back on that day?"

Kit shook her head slowly, her face still turned towards the window looking out. "No. No one. No family, no relatives."

"So?" asked Dean. "Why the twelfth?"

Kit was silent for a moment. Why, though? What was he indicating? And then it hit her. "My birthday," she breathed out.

***

They arrived at her house just a quarter past midnight. The moon was a brilliant blue high above their heads and there was no cloud in sight and no stars whatsoever. Just the moon making it look like something out of a horror movie and a wolf might cry out anytime soon. But Kit didn't notice that as she made her way up the porch steps, her fingers surprisingly still as she fidgeted with the keys, trying to figure out the correct one for the front door in the darkness with Sam and Dean right behind her.

"Huh," remarked Dean all of a sudden.

"What?" Sam asked.

Dean pointed to a spot about five steps away from the bottom step. "Sprinkler?"

Sam scrutinised it for a moment before nodding. "There's no grass."

Dean looked around the compound. The two storey house stood on its own surrounded by a wood. A dirt road led up from the main street and people would have missed it if not for the old rusted post box painted red with yellow stripes, probably as a way to catch the postman's attention. There was definitely no grass. Well, at least, no grass where the sprinkler was. As he looked around, he noticed a few more, all lined up in a V. He thought that was weird.

"Are you two coming in or what?"

They followed Kit in, neither asking anything about the oddly-placed sprinklers. Different people have different quirks, thought Dean and he let the matter rest.

Kit started up the staircase. "I'll be five minutes."

Sam nodded. They both walked into the living room, Sam sitting down on one of the couches while Dean started inspecting the pictures arranged on the mantelpiece. All of them were of two same people he presumed was James Constantine and the girl, Kit. The pictures seemed to be arranged chronically; James with a toddler in pigtails, James with the toddler on his shoulder wearing his baseball cap, James with a girl of about six or seven and then another one of the girl probably at fourteen. The last one seemed recent: James with his arm around Kit's shoulders, both holding a rifle each.

Dean chuckled. "Puberty did her well."

Sam looked at him incredulously, shaking his head.

 

 

Meanwhile, upstairs, Kit was stuffing random clothes into a duffel bag. She wasn't really choosing anything, just scooped up whatever she could grab from the closet and dumping them into the bag. She went to her desk and started picking up items she thought she might need; a journal of her hunting notes (she didn't need that, she had everything up in her head already), her cell phone charger, a pen (really?), the fake IDs her dad made her years back when she started following him on hunting trips when he allowed it, some cash she stowed in a jewellery box that never held any jewellery. She opened the bottom drawer of the desk to retrieve the 9mm Taurus she received for her sixteenth birthday. The gun had seemed too big, too heavy then but, holding it now in her hand, it felt just perfect. She checked the magazine to find it unloaded then decided against having the gun on her person before putting it into her bagpack front pocket.

She rifled through the other drawers looking for the box of silver bullets that came with the gun. Always silver, Kit. You can never be too careful. She finally found the box stuffed deep into the back of one of the other drawers, hidden out of sight behind piles of paper. She opened it up to check and something fell out. She picked it off the floor. It was a mini polaroid, yellowed with time. In it were a boy and a girl of about eight, one she recognised as herself, the other, the boy was...She quickly stuffed the picture back into the box before putting it into the duffel bag and zipping it up.

She sighed.

 

 

Dean refused to sit, still wandering in the living room, occasionally checking out the window. He wasn't expecting anything; it was a habit of making sure the perimeter was safe. Sam, on the other hand, had made his way down the hall. As Dean walked around the room, his eyes couldn't help but look at the pictures in frames he had checked out earlier as there was nothing else, really, to see. He eyes moved automatically from the James with baby up to the James with the armed teenager. He couldn't help but noticed how James looked exactly the same from the first picture to the last one. He shrugged. Some people just have a way of looking young.

"Hey, Dean." He heard Sam called out to him and he hurried over. He found Sam standing in front of a door that opened out from underneath the staircase. A thumping from the stairs made them both looked up to find Kit coming down with a backpack on her back and a duffel bag in one hand. She glanced at them from over the banister, bounding the last few steps to dump the duffel bag by the front door before joining them.

"My dad's study's down there," she said.

Sam cleared his throat. "You think we can check it out?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "Yeah, sure."

They started making their way down the basement stairs. Kit flicked a switch at the bottom and the whole room lit up. Both Sam and Dean weren't expecting what they saw: rows and rows of filled bookshelves lined the three out of the four walls, meticulously alphabetized with appropriate labels on each shelves – Enochian, Demonology, Greek Mythology, Lores and Legends, etc. A table fit for eight stood in the middle of the room with six desk lamps with some books strewn across it, some opened to certain pages. In one corner was computer, its screen black but the CPU indicated that it was running. Sam switched the monitor on and a picture of Kit lit up on the desktop. Kit looked away, embarrassed. Sam smiled at her.

Dean pointed to a door behind the stairs. "What's through there?"

"The armory."

Dean whistled. "A whole room? Awesome."

Sam approached the table. He picked up one of the opened books, scanning the page. "He's researching on djinns."

Kit nodded. "Yeah, that was the case he left for last Friday."

Dean looked at her. "Does he always leave you alone?"

Kit stared at him. "I'm seventeen."

"He left almost a week. When was the last time you heard from him?" asked Sam, putting down the book.

"Three days ago," Kit answered. "He didn't say much. Just the usual making sure I hadn't burn down the house."

Sam sighed. "We'll find him."

Dean said, with a look of someone who knew better, "Look, kid. In this business a lot of things can happen. What I'm saying is-"

"I know what you're saying," snapped Kit, glaring at Dean. "I don't want to hear it. Not until we find his body, there's a chance he's still out there."

Dean glanced at Sam. "Alright."

"Hey, what's that?" Sam pointed to the one wall that was bare, no shelves of any sort, just a sort of a growth chart drawn on in various coloured-chalks against the grey wall. Dean, who was closest to it, went to inspect. "Growth charts?" He looked at Kit then at the wall then back again, making the connection. "Of you?"

"Yeah. He used to measure me. Height, weight, build; that kind of stuff. He'd draw them here so I could see it, or so he says," Kit explained. The last time they did this was last year. Her heart constricted then. Please be safe, please be safe, please be safe.

"Most parents only measure heights," commented Dean. He turned to Kit, grinning sheepishly, probably because he had said that out loud. Kit frowned at him but before she could say anything there was a creaking sound, the kind you made when you stepped on a certain spot on the floorboard or an unoiled door. All three heads whipped upward.

"Were you expecting anyone?" Dean pulled out his gun from his waistband and Sam followed suit. Kit remembered that hers was in the duffel bag that she left upstairs but didn't really regret it. She had other means of fighting.

The Winchesters started moving towards the stairs, guns in hands but pointed towards the floor. Before the started up the stairs, Dean taking the lead, Sam indicated that Kit stayed behind him. She obliged.

They crept up the stairs slowly and when they reached the top, they found out that the door had been pushed shut but not fully from where they had left it wide opened. Sam and Dean exchanged glances. Sam gestured to Kit to stay put. Dean held up three fingers, counting them down before they both barrelled through the door, gun pointed outward. Kit waited and, not hearing any gunshots, decided to come up. Dean had his barrel pointed straight to Michael's forehead.

"Michael?!" exclaimed Kit, shocked. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Dean said, "You know him?"

"Yeah," replied Kit, moving towards them.

"Wait," said Dean. He looked at Sam who took out what looked like a silver flask. He unscrewed the cap and splashed Michael with its content. Michael looked as if he wasn't sure how to react. He spat out what went into his mouth. Dean looked pleased, uncocking his gun and lowering it.

"What the hell are you doing here, Michael?" repeated Kit, her voice more forceful now.

Michael wiped his face with his sleeve, running his fingers through his wet hair. He eyed Sam and Dean suspiciously before answering her. "I saw you follow them out. Came to check on you."

Kit raised her eyebrows in disbelief. "Right, yeah. Well, I'm fine now, you can go."

"I saw the bag by the door," said Michael. "Are you going somewhere? What's going on? And who are these guys?"

Kit didn't answer. She just stared at him, her mouth slightly hanging open, her eyebrows knitted as if he had grown an extra head and she was amused by it. "Just go home, Michael."

She turned around to close the basement door but Michael grabbed her by the arm. "Kit, answer me. Are you going on some sort of a hunting thing?"

She shook off his hand and laughed drily. "You got out of the game five years ago, Michael, you stay out. Are you alone?"

"The guys are in the car. Look, I'm just trying to make sure you're alright," Michael said sounding matter-of-fact. "That's all."

Kit snorted. "That's funny considering-"

"Guys," called out Dean who was standing by the front door peeking through the window in it. "How about we save the cute argument for later. We've got company."

"What, you brought more of your dumb friends, Michael?" asked Kit sarcastically as she made her way to the living room to look out the window. She spotted Ashton's Jeep parked behind the Impala and the three boys standing next to it, checking out the wheels. "Those are Michael's dirtbag friends," she said to Dean.

"No," said Dean, coming to join her. "I meant them."

Kit's gaze followed to where Dean's fingers were pointing. Up ahead on the dirt road, two cars with their headlights off were driving down towards the house. Well, that explains why I didn't see them, thought Kit, although she found it weird as to why kept their headlights off. There was practically just woods all around.

Dean turned to Sam. "Sammy, get the kids out of here. Back door. Go."

"No," Kit protested. "I'm not going anywhere. They could be the one who have my dad."

"Exactly," said Dean. "Which is why you need to go."

Kit was adamant. "No, I'm staying. Besides, there's no way to go or haven't you noticed? We're surrounded by woods."

Dean looked at Sam who shrugged in a way of saying she's-right-you-know. The sound of the front door opening distracted them. Michael had gone out. He was calling to his friends. The three of them rushed out, Kit, snatching the duffel bag on her way out, stopping on the porch. Sam and Dean cocked their guns once more. But before any of them could warn the boys, the two cars had parked on either sides of the yard and four guys spilled out from each car.

A strong, pungent smell filled the air but Kit couldn't place what it was. It seemed familiar, like something you would smell in a science laboratory in school and the name of it was on the tip of her tongue. Her grip on the duffel bag tightened.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here." One of the closest men who came out of the car parked to their left spoke up. Kit noticed something out of place among the eight men; they all looked mismatched, three of them were in suits and ties, another two in casual clothing while one of them looked as if he just got back from a fishing trip. That's odd.

It was a full moon tonight, making it all of their faces quite clear to make out in the dark. As the man who spoke just now came nearer, Kit finally could see what she couldn't before because of the distance: his eyes were all black.

Demons.


	4. Chapter 3

Sam automatically moved to slightly shield Kit but that wouldn't have done any good. They were outnumbered. The four boys who stood frozen by the Impala looked confused and shocked at the same time, held at gunpoint by two of the demons in suits. The other six seemed to be spread out across the dirt lawn, securing their only escape route. The one who addressed them earlier, dressed in casual jeans and a T-shirt and jacket, took a few more steps but stopped right at the bottom of the porch steps where he stood there looking up triumphantly at them. Kit noted dully how the Jeep wasn't obstructed, if they were to escape. Good.

"The Winchesters? Here?" said Demon One amusingly, looking at Sam and Dean in turn. "A bonus, I see. He would be glad to know that the infamous Winchesters are dead after this. Nothing personal, of course. Just taking care of business."

"Well," said Dean. "If we're as popular as you say, you would know that we'll make it out of here. Alive."

"Who's he?" questioned Sam.

Demon One chuckled. "Of course. They also told us you have a big mouth." He only looked at Sam with a smile but didn't answer the question.

Dean grinned. "Well, it comes with the package."

Kit decided to act and act fast. She assessed the picture; how the demons were standing close together, not scattered too far apart. They didn't need to because there was only one way out and that was getting back up to the main road. Each of them were in close range of a sprinkler, two of them were even standing above one each. Demon One though was slightly further apart from the rest and just a little away from the nearest sprinkler that Dean had noted earlier. Roughly, Kit thought, they might have a chance. But the water source was on the ground to the left corner of the house, the tap protruding out of the ground just barely in her line of sight.

Dean was still making conversations with Demon One. His idea of stalling was somehow working but Kit knew it was a matter of time before they got bored with him. She regarded the two Suit and Tie demons who were aiming their guns at Luke and Ashton, Calum and Michael. Luke and Ashton were standing by the Impala's right side, facing that way, hands up by their heads. Kit couldn't get their attention. Calum and Michael, however, were standing against the Impala's fender and Michael, thankfully, was looking at her.

Kit decided to convey her idea to him. She stared at him for two seconds then shifted her eyes to the nearest sprinkler to him. She repeated that twice before seeing Michael's gaze fell to the ground. When he looked up again, he gave a slight nod; he understood. Time for the fun part. She looked over to the tap once more, her mind focused. The faucet started to budge.

"Why don't you just tell us where James is," Dean was saying. "Then we'll kill all you sons of bitches and be on our way. Sounds like a plan to you?"

Demon One smirked then turned his gaze on Kit. "We're really sorry about your father but he was just, oh, what's the word? Disposable. Had to be done. Don't get me wrong, he didn't give up your location, of course, but for someone who's not even blood to you, he genuinely cared about you, which was his own demise. We followed them instead." He gestured to the boys behind him.

Kit frowned at him. "Not even blood? He's my father you-"

"Now, now," Demon One interrupted. "There's no need to act all defensive but yeah, sure, he raised you. I guess that qualified."

"What the hell are you talking about?" demanded Kit, getting furious yet confuse. Did they get the wrong girl or is this some kind of a sick joke?

"Enough chit chat." Demon One's stance changed. He stood up straighter, shoulders back. His eyes glint black once more. "Let's get the party started, shall we...Katarra?"

The two Suit and Tie demons cocked their guns. Kit knew she had to act fast. "Hey, bitches!" she called out, loud enough for them to look her way. "I hope you don't mind getting the suit wet." She smirked.

The faucet turned all the way and the sprinklers started working, pumping out sprays of water about six feet into the air from the high water pressure. The demons, caught off guard, started to scream out in agony as the holy water hit their skin, burning them. Steam rose into the air as the sound of water fizzling mixed with the men crying out filled the night.

"Get to car! Go!" Kit shouted as both Sam and Dean bolted towards the Impala, she right on their heels. Up ahead, she saw Michael throwing a punch to the nearest demon to him. The demon fell onto his hands and knees and got a blast from one of the sprinklers square in the face. He screamed, clutching his face as Michael kicked away his gun before making for Ashton's Jeep and jumping into the driver's seat just as the other three scrambled in.

Kit got to the Impala and opened up the back door. As she was about to get in, a hand grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her back. She stumbled to the ground but was too slow to get back on her feet as the air was knocked out of her. The fisherman demon came on top of her, pinning her down by the neck with one strong hand, choking her, while the other held a dagger that glinted in the moonlight. Struggling to breathe, she tried to pry his fingers off of her while fighting off from getting stabbed in the face. She was starting to see stars. She couldn't focus.

Fight him off! Fight him! A voice in her head was shouting over the sound of blood rushing in her ears. She saw a pair of hands tried pulling the demon backwards but was shook off. She could hear the sound of a scuffle somewhere in the background followed by screams and she wondered who got hurt. Dean loomed behind Fisherman Demon and tried to yank him off of her. He had his arms around the demon's neck but the demon seemed not to care, the dagger now inches from Kit's face.

FIGHT HIM!

The voice boomed so loud in her head that she thought she saw a flash behind her eyes. Suddenly, the table was turned. She managed to pry off the demon's fingers off her neck, twisting his other hand in the process that he dropped the knife to the side. In that quick turn off event, the demon lost his balance as Dean pulled him away and Sam appeared out of nowhere and stabbed him. The demon seemed to flicker red from the inside before dying. But before Dean could let the demon in his arms fell to the floor, another one, Demon 1, came charging from behind him aiming a gun.

Kit, now on her feet again, saw him first. Without thinking, she flicked her right arm, palm outward, in the demon's direction. He was sent flying backwards as if he was hit by a powerful force and crashed into the porch railing. He tried to get up again but Kit, her hand still outstretched, started to twist her hand inward into a claw as if grabbing at thin air. Sam and Dean watched the demon strained as if he was being choked. He coughed a few times, puffs of black smoke coming out from his mouth and nose. He fell onto his hands and knees, shuddering. He looked up once and made eye contact with Kit.

"Long live the Dark Lord," he spluttered, his mouth widening into a black-stained grin. Kit closed her hand into a tight fist and jerked slightly as if pulling on something. The demon struggled, his eyes bulging before he finally sagged to the ground. Dead.

A movement to the right made Kit turned her head in that direction to find one last demon still standing, a dagger in hand. He was looking at the body of Demon 1, his face the look of terror. He looked at Kit, his eyes wide. Kit just stared back at him. In a blink of an eye, he was gone.

Kit felt heavy eyes on her. She looked at Sam and Dean and found that they were staring at her with a look of shock-not-sure-what-to-do look on their faces. She looked back towards the Jeep and found that all four guys were not in the car anymore. They were all standing with their doors opened, staring at her with that same look. Except for Michael, who had a look of concern instead.

Kit guessed it was because of the telekinetic action that went down just now and she started to open her mouth to explain to the Winchesters that she had always had that power. But something caught her eye in the reflection off of the Impala's black metallic paint. She approached the car tentatively, unsure of what she was seeing. Sam and Dean took a step back but Dean seemed reluctant to move away from his ride.

As she got closer to the side of the car, she could see pretty clear what reflected off of the body and the rolled up window. Yes, it was really just her own reflection staring back and what caught her attention earlier. But no, it didn't look quite right. She couldn't really pinpoint it at first but as her eyes travelled from her body up to her face, she frowned. Huh. That's weird.

Through the reflection, a girl with bright almost glowing silvery purple eyes stared straight back at her with that same defiant look she had on her own face. Now that's definitely new, she thought as she turned her face this way and that. And as she looked, the colour started to fade away, leaving behind the normal brown eyes she was more familiar with.

"What the hell?"

Kit looked at Dean. "My thoughts exactly."


	5. Chapter 4

It was silent in the Impala as they drove on towards Kansas, hardly stopping at all as Dean was insisted to get there as soon as possible. Behind them, the Jeep followed with Michael driving. Kit sat in the backseat, staring out the window. Once awhile she could feel Dean's eyes on her through the rearview mirror and occasionally Sam would furtively glanced at her over his shoulder as if she might disappear. Kit looked down to her cuffed hands in her lap and sighed heavily. The Winchesters had suggested she wore the cuffs with the different runes engraved on it until they arrived in Kansas; the demonic handcuffs as Dean had explained to her when he slapped it on. She had argued that she wasn't a threat to them but they weren't taking any chances.

They had been driving for hours on end to where, Kit wasn't sure exactly. She was tired as hell but her mind was buzzing so much that she couldn't sleep. She was going through the things Demon One had said last night. She kept going round and round, repeating his words in her head and turning it over. What was he talking about? What did he mean when he said we weren't blood? Her father had been the only constant thing in her life ever since she could remember. She had childhood memories where he was always a part of. They had pictures to prove that, too. Her mother died giving birth to her and in an attempt to move on, her father had thrown away everything of hers including pictures. Well, that was what she was told of. Had he lied to her?

Was she adopted, somehow? She mulled this over in her head, thinking of the possibility. She had the same dark hair as her father, same slightly tanned skin. Though his eyes were green, she could have gotten her brown ones from her unknown mother. Then the image of her own eyes glowing purple earlier today flashed in her mind and she involuntarily shivered. Her father never had glowing purple eyes before, as far as she knew, and he also never showed signs of being telekinetic. Kit let out an exasperated groan out load and both the Winchesters looked at her, eyes alert.

Kit sighed. "Relax, not about to murder anyone here." She held up her cuffed hands as if to remind them she was incapable of that at the moment. They relaxed.

Up ahead on the horizon, the sky was turning a brilliant orange as first light started to appear. It looked like someone set the sky on fire and as the sun slowly crept up again, the land around them came into view, the shadows of the night chased away. Another brand new day. Another day Kit hasn't heard from James.

"Where are we heading?" she asked as she scooted herself to sit in the middle. She leaned forward and rested her hands on the back of the front seat. The passed a signboard and Kit gaped. "Kansas? We're in Kansas?"

"We'll stop for breakfast first," said Dean, ignoring her questions completely.

***

Kit, now finally uncuffed, sat in a booth with Sam and Dean across from her while Michael and the others sat in another one behind them. Their breakfast arrived – scrambled eggs and bacon and orange juice for her, pancakes and coffee for Sam, extra greasy strips of bacons and fries with a side of hash browns and coffee for Dean – and the first thing Dean said to her through a mouthful of bacon was, "Talk."

By the time they all had cleaned their plates, Sam and Dean was staring at her as if she was some kind of a strange artefact in a museum. Kit was pushing her bacon around in her plate with her scrambled eggs half eaten and her orange juice untouched. She had lost her appetite because by now her thoughts were solely on her father.

"So," Sam said as he processed what Kit had told him. "You're saying you've had this...power all your life and you don't how or why?"

"And you don't know who your mother is?" Dean added, frowning.

Kit shook her head. "No. My dad told me she died giving birth to me. And about the powers, I don't know, Sam. It was just something I grew up with."

The brothers looked contemplative for a moment. Sam sipped on his already cold coffee, his eyes seemed distant. Frowning slightly, he turned to Dean. "Do you think it's...?"

Dean raised an eyebrow at him but then shook his head. "She's not your age, Sammy. I don't think so."

Sam didn't look convinced. "Well, maybe this is a different group?"

"No, I don't think so. We've killed that son of a bitch. Besides, she said her mother died giving birth and that-"

"Excuse me," interjected Kit, looking from one brother to the next. "But what the hell are you two talking about?"

"Azazel," stated Dean in a tone that suggested that could explain it all. But when Kit stared at him with a blank face he sighed. "Basically he chose kids to be his army by feeding them his blood when they're babies and these kids grew up with superpowers."

When Kit looked horrified, Sam added hastily. "But you don't fit the profile of these kids. These kids they were...older." He exchanged looks with Dean. "And, all of their mothers died in a fire instead."

Kit, mouth hanging opened, stared at them both. "Well," she finally said hesitantly. "I'm pretty sure my mum didn't die in a fire. But thanks for the theory."

All three of them sat quietly, each entertaining their own thoughts. Kit caught Dean eyeing her uneaten bacon and when he realised that she was looking at him, he gave her a coy smile. "Are you, uh, going to eat that?"

Sam gave Dean an unbelieving look and he returned that with a what-did-I-do look with a shrug. Kit slowly pushed her plate towards him and he smiled with gratitude, wolfing down the bacon first before moving on to finish the rest that was on the plate.

"So," said Kit, nursing her orange juice in between her hands. "Where are we heading exactly? And what about finding my dad?"

"Wifgotafunker," Dean replied with a mouth full of food, a piece of bacon still hanging out of his mouth.

Sam cleared his throat, looking like he was ashamed of his older brother. "What he's trying to say is that we've got someplace safe for the time being. Those demons were obviously after you. They might come back with more back up. You'll stay with us until we figure this all out."

"Yeah, about that. What do they even want with me?"

Sam shrugged. "What do any demon wants with any of us, really." He stopped for awhile, thinking. "Wait, I thought your name is Kirsten?"

Kit nodded. "Yeah. Kirsten. Kit? My dad mentioned my name in his message, didn't he? Why'd you ask?"

"Because I could've sworn that demon called you..." Sam tried to recall back to last night.

"Katarra."

Kit turned around in her seat to face Michael, who apparently had been listening on to their conversation. This close up, Kit could see the burn scar on the side of his face that was usually hidden behind his jet black hair. Kit scowled. "Why would he call me that?"

"Who's Katarra?" asked Dean who had finished eating and was now finishing his coffee.

Both Michael and Kit shook their heads.

"What if," mused Kit, "they got the wrong person? Maybe they're after somebody else? This Katarra girl, for one, whoever the hell she is."

Dean and Sam looked grim. Dean said, "See, the thing about demons is they're never wrong." He got up from his seat, riffling through his wallet and took out a wad of cash. He slapped it down on the table. "Let's go."

Outside in the parking lot, there was an audible discussion between Michael, Calum, Luke and Ashton. Michael seemed adamant on something which the other three obviously didn't agree on. Calum looked enraged and Ashton looked annoyed. Luke, on the other hand, looked dazed and slightly scared. His usually blond quiff was now all flat and ruffled out.

"We can't leave!" Michael was half shouting-half whispering.

"Hey," barked Dean and the four of them startled, looking at him. "What's going on there?"

Michael looked away, leaving the other three to speak up on their own. They looked to each other in turn, probably willing the other to say something. In the end, Calum spoke up. "Look, we'd love to go on this little road trip with you but we all have somewhere else to be. Our families are looking for us and-"

"Give me your phones," demanded Dean, interrupting him. He walked up to them and held up his hand.

"What?!" retorted Ashton.

"You heard me," Dean retaliated, looking at him in the eye. "All of it. Now."

"Bullshit, dude," Calum snorted, backing up a little. He seemed on the edge of losing his cool. "We're not giving you anything. We're going back."

Sam interjected then, hurrying to stand next to Dean. He spoke in a softer tone, playing intermediary. "Look, those demons that came last night will be coming again. It's for your own safety that you stick with us until all of this is over. To be safe, we can't risk being tracked down. You need to get rid of your phones. No contact with anyone else."

"And if your families or friends know where you are, they might get killed for information," Dean added gravely. "These things don't play nice and if you want your loved ones safe you should do as we say."

The three of them were silent for a minute. Calum shot a dirty look at Kit, grinding his jaws. "This is on you, witch," he spat. "And you," he looked at Michael, "for dragging us into this shit."

Kit marched over to them, head held high, raged in her eyes. "My father is being held by those damn things and he could be tortured right at this very moment. Or even worst! And now they want me dead and I don't even know what the hell is going on here! As far as I'm concerned, I couldn't give two shits about you lot. Especially you. You want to go back, fine. No one's holding you here."

She stormed off and got into the back of the Impala, slamming the door behind her. The guys stared after her, Dean not looking impressed of her taking out her rage on his baby.

"Your call," said Sam.

The five of them stared at each other for awhile before Luke finally fished his phone out of his skinny jeans and handed it over to Dean. Ashton was next. Calum still looked defiant, too stubborn to give in but Michael was giving him a hard look. He finally gave in. Dean turned to Michael who handed him his. With all four phones in his hands, he and Sam went to the side of the diner where they crushed the phones under their feet before making their way back to the car to find that the boys had climbed into the Jeep and the engine already running.

Dean went and opened up the back door of the Impala and peered in at Kit who was sitting on the other side. "Yours?"

Kit gave him a questioning look. "My dad's a hunter, remember? I think he would've known to make sure both our phones are incognito."

Dean didn't look convinced. He turned to Sam for opinion but Sam just shrugged in response so he sighed and backed out, closing the door after him. He got into the driver's seat, started the engine and drove off.

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A/N: Hey guys! Sorry that this is so short. Will make it up to you in the next one! xx


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so I kind of added a little bit to this chapter because I didn't quite like how it initially ended. Enjoy! xx

Kit looked around the vast room of the place Dean had called "The Bunker" which Sam had explained was the Men of Letters secret hiding lair and that they have others like this scattered all around the world. According to Sam these bunkers are the safest places you could find against demons, angels, and pretty much everything supernatural. As they climbed down the metal spiral stairs, Dean was telling them how their mobile phones and internet work awesomely down here without the outside world being able to track the location. He seemed pretty proud of the place.

At the bottom of the stairs, they were met with a huge table with an illuminated map of the world with various measuring instruments laid out randomly across the top. A bank of old school computers and some sort of communication devices lined the walls. The room reminded Kit of an old war movie she had seen once before where they had the same type of machines.

Up ahead, Kit was more awestruck at the huge library with endless rows of shelves filled with all kinds of books and a variety of weapons in display cases. In the middle stood a mahogany long table complete with desk lamps, the kind you would find in an actual library. It reminded her of her dad's study in their own basement only ten times bigger and better stocked. Looking up, Kit noticed that the ceilings had sigils and devil traps above every bookcase. At the bottom was a bronze devil trap. Either they're very careful or just plain paranoid. But nevertheless, Kit was amazed by it all. So were the boys.

"So," said Kit as she ran her fingers lightly on the edge of the mahogany table, her eyes darting everywhere. "You're saying a group of hunters created this place?"

"They're not hunters," replied Dean as he emerged with bottles of beers in his hands. "They're librarians. They do research on the supernatural and well." He gestured to the room.

"But you're hunters? How come you own the place now?" inquired Michael as he shrugged off his jacket and plopped down in one of the chairs. He accepted a beer from Dean.

"Because," replied Dean, sounding like a kid who the teacher called out out of spite but he actually knew the answer to the question. "We're legacies."

Sam fought off a smile. "Our grandfather was one of the Men of Letters. He didn't get to pass the knowledge down to our dad and he became a hunter when our mother was killed by a demon. We found out about all of this only a few years ago."

Kit noted the statement about their mother and thought it a little familiar with the whole conversation at the diner earlier but she didn't say anything because Sam looked a little troubled. She just nodded in response.

"Look, you've been going on about this whole demon thing," piped in Ashton who was still standing by the map table with Calum and Luke. "Michael explained to us the basics in the car on the way here but what the hell is going on?"

"Yeah," Calum said, taking a few steps forward till he was standing next to Michael. "We'd need a little more than just 'the things that go bump in the night are real monsters' for us to ditch our homes like this."

Kit rolled her eyes. "You're kidding me, right? After what you saw last night?"

Calum turned his gaze on her slowly as if only realising she was standing there. He walked over to her, his body rigid, his muscles tensed. Michael got up but didn't step in. Calum stopped once he and Kit were face to face. "What I saw last night were you waving your arms around and then the guy was dead and then your eyes were a blazing purple. Now, who's to say maybe you're the bad guy?" He looked her up and down before hissing, "Witch! Remember back when-"

"That's enough, Calum!" bellowed Michael furiously.

Kit was at a loss for words. She stood there dumbfounded, staring at him as her mind went blank with any counter remark she planned on throwing at him. But then the blankness was replaced with a hot white rage that was almost blinding. She could almost feel her blood boil to the point that heat was emanating off of her. The lights above flickered and the look of smugness on Calum's face just now was wiped away and replaced with horror as he stumbled backwards.

"What the..." she heard Dean said somewhere in the background.

Stop. Stop, calm down.

She ignored the voice in her head because right now she was just so angry at Calum for accusing her, so upset that her father could be dead by now, so confused with all that had happened in the last twelve hours. She felt like screaming but her voice was stuck in her throat. She felt like lashing out at Calum but the only strand of sanity left in her held her back. But her blood was still boiling, her heart was still hammering. And the heat, oh, the heat was almost engulfing her. She looked down to her hands.

Blue flames were dancing in the palms of her hands and in her peripheral vision she could see Sam and Dean with their guns out and aiming at her. Not this again, no!

Flashes of kids screaming.

A distant memory.

Light is not destruction.

The voice in her head was the last thing she heard before Michael came over to her, held her head in between his hands and whispered something into her ear that she would forget later. Her vision dimmed before she blacked out.

***

Voices. Men. Arguing.

"A pyro-what?! Fan-frickin-tastic!"

"I told you she was a witch bu-"

"Shut up, Calum! She's not a witch!"

"What the hell are we supposed to do with her now?"

Someone's inaudible mumbling.

"Awesome. We have some freak kid who could blow this place up-"

"Dean, maybe that's why the demons are after her."

A pause. Michael's inaudible voice.

"He's right, Dean. She's better off with us. Safer."

"Yeah, but we're not safe from her."

Kit's eyes fluttered open. She blinked a few times staring up at the ceiling. For a moment she forgot where she was. Gingerly, she pushed herself up onto her elbows and immediately the room dipped and spun. She screwed her eyes shut once more, breathing in deeply. Once it didn't felt as if she was on a boat, she started to look around the room. She was in a bed in a whitewashed room. Assortments of weapons hung along the walls, from different types of firearms to some sort of a medieval looking axe. Next to the bed, on a bedside table were an old sepia photo of a boy and a woman and another more recent photo of Sam and Dean with an elderly guy at what seemed to be a junkyard. Their father, maybe?

The door to the room was ajar and it seemed as if the guys were standing right outside, discussing about her. But she didn't feel like getting up, didn't feel up for being stared at as if she was a time bomb that was on its last few seconds. She swung her legs off the bed but sat there, staring unseeingly at her hands. So many questions unanswered. Seventeen years of always being sure of herself, sure that these powers were just there because she was 'special' and not because of some cosmic error that happened when she was born, knowing where she belonged and always knowing what to do in critical situations now seemed pointless and doubtful. Things James had taught her the hunter way never covered what to do when you find out that you are not who you thought you were. It was as if her world had been ripped off from underneath her feet.

Sam and Dean had raised questions that never crossed her mind: who is she? What do these powers mean? Where was her origin? But the one question that was painful for her to come to terms with was whether or not James was her father. And if he wasn't, then who was and where is he now? Was her mother alive then? A sob escaped her lips and she bit the inside of her cheeks to stop herself making another sound.

The door was pushed opened and she quickly wiped her eyes with the back of her hands before turning around. Sam and Dean walked in, followed by Michael. Her eyes caught the cuffs in Dean's hands and she looked at him impassively.

Sam sighed as he noticed that she saw the cuffs. "Look, until we figure out what you are and how to deal with this it's safer tha-"

"Yeah, I know." Kit nodded her head weakly. She shrugged.

"You don't have to, Kit" argued Michael. "It's not something that happens every time and Calum provoked you."

"The cuffs cancel out your," Dean waved his arm in her direction, "powers. It's only for when we're in here and when you're in close proximity with that jockhead out there. I don't want to be meat-roasted."

Michael gave him a dirty look but Dean just brushed him off. He approached Kit who held up her hands voluntarily. While Dean was preoccupied securing the cuffs on her, she met Michael's gaze. He didn't seem too happy with the arrangement and he was looking at her as if disappointed. Kit wondered why as her eyes wandered to the spot where his scar was. Michael walked off.

"Other than this," said Kit as she rotated her wrists, testing the boundary of the cuffs. "I still have my freewill, right? It's off when I tell you?"

Dean looked reluctant to give an answer but Sam nodded and gave her a small smile. "Sure."

They met the rest of the guys back in the library section of the place, sitting around the table, each nursing an almost empty beer bottle. Michael was standing by one of the weapon display cases, a katana, running his fingers along the hilt. They all looked up as the three of them walked in. Calum saw Kit's bounded hands and smirked.

"It's temporary," Dean clarified when he saw Calum's reaction. "So you better watch yourself, kid."

So what now?" Kit looked around to the guys, wondering if there was any plan that they have discussed while she was out.

Sam headed to one of the cabinet files and rummaged through the first drawer. "Research." He pulled out a few brown files. "See if we can find anything that can explain what you are."

Kit raised an eyebrow. "You're saying I'm not human?"

Sam looked uncomfortable. "Maybe. We figure that out then we can figure out what those demons want with you." He turned to the boys. "You too. Find anything related to special powers or anything that might help. Books help but try to dig into these type of files in cabinets like this." He pointed to the one behind him. "The faster we work the faster we can get to the bottom of this."

"And find my dad," Kit muttered under her breath. Sam must have heard her because he nodded along as well.

She made her way to one of the shelves nearest to her and pulled out a book on demonic strength. She shuddered at the thought that she could be part of one of the things she and her dad used to hunt. As she was walking back towards the table, Michael caught her by the arm.

"You okay?" he asked, his tone gentle.

Kit nodded her head once but didn't say a word. She looked away from him and carried on to the table to sit across from Sam. Michael watched her for a moment before joining them at the table. He pulled one of the files out of Sam's pile and started reading.

"What about you?" They all turned to see Ashton looking at Dean accusingly who was still standing around looking like he preferred to just watch.

Dean cleared his throat, swinging his arms together and clasping them in front of him. Sheepishly he announced, "Me? I'm on food duty. You guys should be hungry soon. I'll go get grab us lunch. And, uh, get Cas in on this."

Sam opened his mouth to argue but Dean was already bolting up the stairs two at a time, pulling on his jacket. He swung the metal door shut behind him, leaving the rest to gape in his wake.

Sam shook his head disapprovingly.

"Who's Cas?"

Sam looked up at Kit. He made an attempt to answer her but gave her an awkward smile instead before getting back to his reading. Confused, Kit turned to Michael. He frowned and shrugged his shoulders.

...

Dean was belting out Sweet Home Alabama on his way back to the bunker. The windows were rolled open and the road was pretty empty that way so he took that chance to shine. Lunch from Biggerson's sat in the passenger seat; chicken salad for Sammy and the girl, burgers for everybody. He seemed proud of himself, thinking that he made good choices on everybody's lunches. A separate bag sat in his lap. Cranberry Pie. He didn't put it with the rest just in case.

As he was rounding a bend in the road, he looked up into the rearview mirror only to jumped slightly, making the car swerve dangerously. A man in a tan trench coat had appeared behind him in the back seat, staring right back at him through the mirror.

"Dammit, Cas!" cursed Dean as he got the Impala under control again. "You need a freakin' bell, man."

Castiel, or fondly known as Cas, looked on stoically, hardly responding. "I heard you call. What is it, Dean?" He had a gruff, slightly monotonous voice.

Dean checked to see if he had squashed his pie, thankful that he didn't. He moved the bag onto the passenger seat along with the rest just to be safe. He gave Cas a hard look. "Where've you been, man?" Cas opened his mouth to reply but Dean cut him off. "We've got a situation. What do you know about someone who is telekinesis and pyro-something?"

Cas's forehead dipped slightly. "I'm not sure. There are a lot of things that are telekinetic. Angels, demons, witches and warlock although they harnessed their powers from something else. As for pyro-something, I am not sure. I have never heard of a-"

"I forgot the name, Cas. It's a pyro-something." Dean suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. "You know, the ability to control fire?"

"Pyrokinesis," suggested Cas. "They can do more than control fire, Dean. Both angels and demons are pyrokinesis. We are able to create and manipulate fire to serve our cause; some more selfish than others."

"Huh." Dean thought about it. He thought back to last night's event, the demon flying across the yard when Kit raised her hand. He thought about how she had easily killed him from the distance that was between them. The colour of her eyes still stamped in his brain, that purple almost glowing colour. Out of all the supernatural things he had come across in his years of hunting, he had never seen that colour before. Black was the colour of the demons, although he remembered Azazel's yellow ones as clear as day. And Lilith was white. Crowley, whenever he does show his colour, was red while most angels have glowing blue ones.

"What is it, Dean?"

Dean shook his head, clearing his thoughts and focusing on the road once more. "There's somebody I want you to meet back at the bunker."

***

The Ways of Demons was proving to be of no help whatsoever. Kit was staring at a complicated diagram of how a demon is created and nothing that she read so far offered no clue or any idea that could explain who or what she is. Though it did mention that being telekinetic and pyrokinetic are two of a long list of abilities that a powerful demon can do. She had pointed this out to Sam who looked uneasy but then Luke had surprisingly quoted a line from the book he was reading, The Angel Lore, that even angels have that same powers among many others. When put the lists side by side, angels and demons pretty much seemed alike.

            “The only thing is that one is good, one is bad,” commented Michael as they were discussing the topic.

            Sam snorted, flipping through probably the hundredth file he was looking into. When he noticed that everybody was staring at him, he made a face. “Trust me, sometimes it’s hard to even differentiate the two.”

            “But I thought angels are supposed to be, you know, good,” said Kit. “They’re the guardians or whatever. Supposed to watch over you and stuff.”

            Just then the sound of the bunker’s heavy metal door swinging opened caught their attention. Dean jogged down the stairs followed by another man. “Is he wearing a trench coat?” Kit heard Ashton whispered aloud to the other boys. As Kit scrutinised the stranger she heard this sort of a faint high pitched sound that reverberated deep inside her. As the man got closer, she could have sworn that it was coming from him. As the man’s eyes fell on her, she gasped and jumped to her feet, knocking her chair backwards. The others turned to stare at her, surprised.

            “Wings,” she squeaked, her voice sounding breathy as her eyes went wide. She was struggling to calm herself, gripping on to the edge of the table. “You have wings.”

            Castiel narrowed his eyes at her. “You can see them.” It sounded more of a statement than a question and Kit nodded fervently.

            Sam and Dean exchanged perplexed looks.

            “Wait,” broke in Sam, getting on his feet. “You can see his _wings_?”

            “I think she affirmed that already, Sam,” Cas answered. To Kit, he asked, “What else can you see?”

            Kit tried to focus herself but the sound was a distraction. It wasn’t too loud for her to bear but she couldn’t shake it off and it was getting a little on her nerve, like a mosquito that flies near your ear and won’t go away no matter how many times you swatted at it. Castiel must have noticed her discomfort and he tilted his head questioningly. His eyes roamed her body as if telepathically scanning her, his eyebrows knitting together.

            “You’re resonating,” he acknowledged out loud. “You can hear my true sound.”

            Kit was blinking a few times, her bound hands up by her right ear and she tried to block the sound. But just as abrupt as it came, it stopped. Slightly dazed, Kit looked around the room. “You guys didn’t hear that?”

            Ashton, Calum and Luke shook their heads hesitantly, staring at her as if she had two heads instead. Michael just looked concerned as usual, so were Sam and Dean. The Winchesters seemed more than confused, both at a loss for words. She turned her attention back to the guy in the trench coat and a name came into her head. _Castiel._

            Cas’ frowned deepened. “What are you?”

            Kit, now calmed, stood up straighter, blinking at Cas. The rest of the room seemed to be sighing in unison as everybody was looking at everybody else. Cas turned to Dean as if waiting to be explained. Dean shrugged. “There goes our angel intel.”


	7. Chapter 6

“So you’re an angel?”  
Castiel gave her a slight nod though he was still giving her a somewhat suspicious look. Kit gave him a once over, at his flat hair, the suit underneath the trench coat and the trench coat itself. “Do all angels wear trench coats?”  
Castiel glanced at Dean who stifled a smile. “No. We wear whatever our vessel was wearing at the time of possession.”  
“I thought only demons can possess people?” asked Michael, twisting in his chair to speak to them.  
Calum emitted a loud groan from the other end of the table. “This is bullshit. First demons, now angels? What’s next? Unicorns exist too?”  
“I have never heard of a unicorn before,” replied Cas. “I don’t think they exist.”  
Calum stared open-mouthed at him. “Is this guy for real?”  
“As opposed to the unicorn, I am,” said Cas, although from his facial expression, Kit thought he really meant what he said. She whistled, mouthing the word ‘wow’ under her breath.  
Sensing the tension in the air, Dean piped up, “How about lunch? Huh?” He held up the bags of food in his hands. He started pulling out packages and passing them around the table. Kit raised her eyebrow when the one labelled ‘Girl’ turned out to be a salad but didn’t say a word. She saw that Sam got the same thing. The others tucked into their burgers.   
“Um, Dean,” Kit called out. She held up her bound hands to him.  
Dean, who was making sure everybody got their food accordingly, started patting down his pockets for the key. Kit glared at him when he couldn’t find it. “Must be in my room,” he mumbled. He got up to look for it.  
Kit huffed, plopping back down into her chair. The cuffs were starting to rub on her skin and it was getting irritable to have your hands bound like that for hours now. She watched Luke rummaging something out of another bag but she couldn’t see what it was when he opened it and started spooning some into his mouth. Sam was still looking into a file, his mouth silently munching on his lunch.  
Dean appeared a couple of minutes later. “Found it,” he announced as he came over to Kit and took off the cuffs. She offered him a small smile, rubbing at her wrists before turning to her food.   
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Sam and Kit both looked up at Dean. He was lifting up an empty food packaging, turning it this way and that as if whatever that went missing could be stuck underneath the plastic. He scowled at Luke who looked guilty as hell. “My pie,” said Dean, looking crestfallen, throwing the empty plastic onto the table.  
Sam looked amused, chuckling quietly as Dean shot him a look.   
Castiel approached the table but didn’t bother sitting down. He had a grim look on his face as he eyed Kit who was picking at the chicken in her salad. Kit glanced at him, noticed that he was staring, put down her fork and sat back, deliberating on a question that circled in her mind. Castiel seemed to be waiting for her to speak, as if he could read her thoughts. She contemplated a little but then thought it was best to just get it out.  
“So,” she paused, uncertain how to phrase it. “How could I have heard your true sound when others can’t?”  
Before Cas could answer, Dean interjected. “Oh, I’ve heard it too, once. Almost went deaf. But that was before he had a vessel.”  
“Only angels are attuned to that frequency. It’s how we communicate, how we find each other, recognise another angel.” Castiel circled the table. It looked as if he was thinking. “Humans weren’t built to withstand that high-pitched piercing sound. It’s fatal to behold, even.”  
“High-pitched, piercing sound? It was more of a high-pitched humming to me. Wasn’t too loud,” Kit claimed, resting one elbow on the table as she subconsciously played with her hair. “But then it just stopped.”  
“Have you met an angel before?” asked Castiel, tilting his head ever so slightly.  
Kit laughed. “Literally? No.”  
Castiel’s brows furrowed. “My theory is that when you heard it, something within you was trying to familiarise with the sound. It stopped once it registered with it. Now, you’re resonating at the same pitch, therefore eliminating the sound.”  
“Whoa, whoa. Hold up.” Kit held up a hand at him. “Familiarised? Resonating at the same pitch? What are you saying? I’m an angel?”  
Castiel looked unsure. “Not quite. The fact that you can see my wings and hear my sound, claims that you are. But something about you feels off. For one, you don’t have a grace. I’ve checked.”  
“A what?”  
“Grace,” repeated Sam. “Like a, a…”  
“Angel juice,” finished Dean. He grinned at Kit although she wasn’t sure what he was so happy about. She turned back to Castiel.   
“I’m not going to even ask you how you ‘checked’,” she said, giving him a dark look.  
“If you insist,” he replied. He scrutinised her for awhile before continuing. “There’s something else you need to know.”  
All eyes focused on Castiel, each anticipating what he was going to say next. Kit held her breath.   
“While I was,” Castiel paused, looking uncomfortable before carrying on after he seemed to have made up his mind, “checking you, I found something else. Something I have seen before but not quite the same. It’s ancient magic, powerful. Put there to either protect you or the people around you. I’m not sure you’re aware of it as in most cases people don’t.”  
Kit felt her stomach twisted as she let out the breath she had been holding. Automatically, her hand went to rest on her abdomen, scrunching her shirt in her first. Her breathing was shaky but she wasn’t sure how to feel. Sam and Dean both were staring at Cas, each a look of mixed fear and concern.  
“What is it?” croaked Kit, dreading Cas’ answer. She was staring at a spot on the table, a swirl in the wood that almost looked like a dark eye staring up into space, at her.  
Dean shifted on his feet, his eyes hooded. “You’ve seen this before? Where?”  
Cas looked from Kit to Dean but he chose to answer Dean’s question first. He seemed to be weighing the odds of it because Dean looked like he was about to throw a punch. “In Sam’s head. The wall Death put up.”  
There was a pause where everyone just sort of either was too confused or, in Sam and Dean’s case, too riled up to even say anything. The silence that followed was deafening that Kit could even hear the tick-tick-tick of Sam’s watch. She slowly sat back in her chair, slightly slumping as she pondered about the new information. A wall in my head? What does that even mean? She knew from reading a health magazine once that your brain has a funny way of protecting you from shock of a traumatizing event that you would go into amnesia until someone tries to dig into your memory, and even so, they do it in stages. Is that what Castiel meant? The wall? Surely that was what he meant when he said it was put there to protect her. Or the people around her. That doesn’t make any sense! Amnesia is usually to protect the host, not its surrounding.  
Kit’s brain was racing a mile a minute trying to make sense of this. It was starting to hurt her head and to think that there is some sort of a barrier in her mind that might or might not help her figure out who she is, it was bizarre even for telekinetic/pyrokinetic like her. She shut her eyes, forcing herself to breathe in and out deeply and as calmly as she could before she starts hyperventilating, which she only had once before when her father had taught her how to shoot a rifle and it had kicked back so hard into her shoulder that her aim bounced upward instead, catching her off guard. Her father. Even those two words sounded full of doubt as of recently.  
“Cas, can you remove it?” she heard Sam asked although he sounded so far away. “Like you removed mine?”  
Kit raised her gaze slightly to watch Cas’ reaction. He looked guilty and slightly saddened as he shook his head slightly and she wondered what had happened between them. “I don’t know, Sam. It’s not quite the same and we don’t know what the consequences would be.”  
Worst then Sammy’s?” Dean implied with a glint in his eyes. Sam shot him an angry look while Cas was discomforted.   
“Could be,” Cas answered in a low voice, his eyes on the ground. “The wall is ancient magic, powerful than the one that was in Sam’s head. Don’t you think that’s a red flag for something?”  
Sam nodded in agreement. “He’s right, Dean. It could be dangerous. I mean, look at what happened earlier. We need to make sure what she is first before we jump straight in.”  
“If the wall is gone,” Kit said slowly and deliberately, sitting up straighter and looking at Cas in the eye, “would that make things easier?”  
Michael, who had been quiet all this while, looked taken aback. “To hell with making things easier, Kit, didn’t you hear what they say? It’s dangerous!”  
“What if it’s the only way?” Kit retorted. “To figure out this mess? To find my da…to find James?” While Michael was still working up a response, she turned to Cas. “What do you think is behind that wall?”  
Cas shifted his eyes over at Sam for a brief moment. “In Sam’s case, it was to lock up his memory of hell that would’ve destroyed him.”  
Kit frowned at that. She looked at Sam who just shrugged in response. “Long story,” he muttered, scratching the back of his head. Dean just looked pissed.  
“Okay,” she replied hesitantly. “So what happens when the wall was removed?”  
Another of that deathly silence as Sam looked away and Cas looked down to his feet almost as if he was ashamed of himself. Kit wondered what the hell happened between them that there were all acting this way. It was as if the topic itself was a dangerous one and she wondered too that maybe Sam was right, that this was dangerous. But if Cas was right about the wall being similar to Sam’s then that means someone must have tried to make her forget something and that made her want to scratch at that phantom itch in her head. And it also raised questions like who put it there and, more importantly, why? Was it James? Was he afraid of me?  
“Well?” she prompted when no one answered her question. She looked around the room, waiting.  
“I almost lost my brother.” Dean spoke up gravely.   
Kit took a shuddering breath to calm herself and she thought about it. Well, that wasn’t encouraging to know. She chewed on her bottom lip. She could feel all eyes on her, awaiting her decision. She refused to look at Michael, or Sam, for that matter because she couldn’t help that her curiosity was getting the best of her. She needed to know what was behind that wall.   
Pick up the pieces first.  
The voice in her head wasn’t making any sense at the moment. How can she do that when she doesn’t even know where to begin? This wall in her head was the only lead they have.   
She took a deep breath and looked Cas in the eye. “Remove it.”


	8. Chapter 7

“No!”  
Shocked at Michael’s outburst, Kit stared at him hard, wondering what he was so worked up about. He had stood up, hands in fists and rage in his green eyes and he glared at her. Everyone’s eyes were on him and even Dean had his hand resting on the gun in the waistband of his jeans, probably an old habit he would never grow out of.   
“What’s with you?” Kit asked, genuinely annoyed at his sudden outrage. She had stood up too but at her five foot five, Michael towered above her.   
“I know your dad’s missing,” Michael started, his voice straining and the veins on his neck standing up, “but do you have some kind of a death wish? We don’t even know what could happen!”  
“We won’t know unless we try, now, would we?” she bellowed back, almost standing on her tiptoes just to match Michael’s intimidating stance. “I don’t have anything else left to lose so why the hell not if it means finding my dad! If you’re so scared then leave! No one’s keeping you here.”   
Michael seemed exasperated, shaking his head, his mouth working to find the right words but failing. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered under his breath finally, running one hand through his hair roughly. He turned to Sam then Dean. “You guys agree with this? Really?”  
There was no response as the brothers only look back at him, communicating silently that they weren’t agreeing nor were they against the idea. He glanced aimlessly at the other three guys but Ashton and Luke refused to even look him in the eye. Calum, on the other hand, seemed as if he had someplace else he rather be than there in that bunker. He had his arms crossed, looking like he had enough of the bullshit and that somehow enraged Michael more than Kit’s decision that he forgot about it for a second.   
“Cas?” Dean prompted in a tone that suggested he was asking the angel’s opinion on the whole thing. Cas didn’t reply, rolling up one sleeve instead and that was enough of an answer for Dean who nodded back. “Alright, the rest of you, let’s go. Into the kitchen. C’mon.”  
Calum rolled his eyes but obliged, followed by the other three and Sam. Michael didn’t budge.  
“Didn’t you hear me?” said Dean in his big brother commanding tone.   
“I’m staying here,” replied Michael defiantly.  
Sam stepped in. “Look, you’re right. We don’t know what could happen. It’s safer if we’re out of…” he glanced at Kit, “reach. Safety precaution.” He placed a hand on Michael’s shoulder. “Cas knows what he’s doing,” he continued with almost a hint of hesitance in his voice.   
Michael looked back towards Kit, his brows furrowed, adamant that she might change her mind. When her brown eyes bore into his green ones, they had that stubborn flare of a girl who has made up her mind.   
“Since when do you care? You’ve left once. It’s not that hard to do again,” said Kit in a low voice, almost a whisper. Michael, taken aback, took a step towards her, almost able to push Sam backward but the larger guy managed to hold him at an arm’s length.  
“WE WERE KIDS, KIRSTEN!” shouted Michael as he struggled against Sam’s weight. His voice was raw with emotion, his eyes glistening.  
Kit was caught off guard, staggering backwards into a chair as the memory flooded her mind, almost taking her breath away. It wasn’t something she forgot; it was the one scene that played out in her mind right before she falls asleep at night, the one scene that always managed to slip into her dreams waking her up sweating and sometimes screaming until James came bursting through the door to shake her back to reality. And right at that moment, seeing Michael in almost the same state as he was in that memory, that scar on the side of his temple showing as his hair was swept back, was unbearable.   
Flashes of kids screaming. A fire.  
Keep it together!  
“Sammy, get him out of here,” she heard Dean’s voice faintly in the background. There was a scuffle, voices in the background and then someone was holding her by the shoulders in a tight grip.  
“Hey, hey!”   
Kit blinked, looking up and came nose to nose with Dean who had moved his hands up to hold both sides of her face in between his large palms. “Focus!” he barked, his green eyes piercing into hers. “Focus!”  
It took her awhile to finally calmed her racing heart and see the golden specks in his eyes came to focus. She relaxed a bit but Dean didn’t let go and she couldn’t see pass him to the others who were pressed against a wall, Sam acting as a partial human shield, one arm extended as if herding the others back.   
“C’mon,” he said. “Let’s go for a drive.”

***

It was late evening and in that summer heat, they had the windows of the Impala rolled down completely, basking in the cool wind that blew through as they drove down a lonely winding road. Apart from the purr of the engine as they cruised along, there was total silence in the car. Kit sat slumped in shotgun, her chin resting on her fist as she stared out the window, watching the trees passed by in a green blur. The only thing Dean ever said to her the moment they got in the car was to put on her seatbelt as if that was a thing. But she complied anyway, silently noting how he ignored his own words.   
They drove on like that for fifteen minutes until Dean finally pulled over. Kit look to her right, passed Dean to see a lake with a wooden dock that extended about 500 meter into the water. Dean got out then leaned back in. “C’mon,” he invited before retreating back again and closing the door.  
Kit got out of the car, closing the door absentmindedly as her eyes roamed the area, encompassing the width of the lake and the dense wood that surrounded it. The road they came up on dead-ended where they were standing; one way in, one way out. As Dean rummaged in the trunk of the car for something, Kit made her way towards the dock but stopped short just right before the dock started. She jammed her hands in her jacket pocket, taking in her serene surrounding. It was quiet except for the gentle lapping of the water against the bank. Up ahead in the sky, the sun would set in about a few minutes but for once since yesterday, Kit was finally completely relaxed.  
She heard Dean approaching her from behind before thrusting a cold bottle of beer at her, readily uncorked. She smiled at him appreciatively but shook her head.  
“Aw, c’mon, amuse me,” Dean chided, lightly shoving her arm with his elbow.  
Kit laughed. “One, I’m not eighteen yet. Two, I don’t drink.”  
Dean made a literal ‘pfft’ sound but then he noticed that she was being serious. He gave her an odd look before shrugging. “Well, more for me.” He placed the bottle on the railing of the dock before casually walking out onto it, swigging on his own beer. Kit stood there awkwardly, trying to decide whether it was safe enough to join him on the seemingly old dock or risk looking like a fool standing there when obviously Dean had brought her here so they could talk. Dean, realising she wasn’t following him like she was supposed to, turned around and beckoned her over.  
“Is this even safe?” Kit mused as she joined Dean at the edge of the dock, keeping her steps light.  
Dean bounced on his feet a few times, making the dock creaked slightly. “Seems sturdy enough. Besides, we’re not that far out.”  
Kit made a sound in the back of her throat and Dean chuckled.   
“Just so you know,” said Kit, standing as close to Dean as it was less awkwardly possible, “I can’t swim.”  
Dean looked at her disbelievingly. “What’s a hunter that can’t swim?” he asked, incredulous. “Oh, wait, I know. A dead one. What, did your dad forget that part?”  
Kit rolled her eyes. “He tried once. Didn’t go down so well because apparently I needed to be in the water to learn that. So…yeah.”   
“Let’s hope your telekinetic-pyrokinetic…thing could somehow get you out of water, kid,” replied Dean sarcastically.   
Shrugging, Kit said, “Funny, right? To be all…that but still scared of your own imagination.” When Dean didn’t comprehend, she continued, “I have this thing where I feel as if there’s something lurking in deep, dark water just waiting to grab my leg and pull me to the bottom.”  
Dean threw his gaze out to the lake and for a moment he wasn’t there on the dock with her but somewhere in the past. “Maybe,” he murmured. Kit watched as his stared unseeingly, probably reliving a memory of a previous hunt. Then just as sudden as it happened, he was back. He took another swig on his beer as if depending on the bitter taste to ground him in the present time and for a moment Kit caught a glimpse of his vulnerability.   
Kit exhaled heavily. “He’s dead, isn’t he? My dad.”  
Dean didn’t respond. A few seconds passed and Kit thought that he hadn’t heard her when he finally spoke up. “What do you think?” He looked at her. “Do you think he is?”  
At first she was confused by his questions but as they stared at each other, it dawned on her what he was trying to say. She looked away, focusing instead in the distant trees and the orange-pinkish sky. Her heart was heavy with the reality of the whole situation but when she actually deliberated on the matter of whether her father was still out there alive, her gut feeling was sure of it. But in the world she lived in, they lived in, this scene hardly ever ends well. Taken, he would have been tortured from hour one and they weren’t even sure when exactly he had went missing which means that he wouldn’t last very long now.   
Have faith.  
“I don’t know,” she finally replied, hugging herself. “I just want to see him again.”  
Dean nodded his head once. “Hang on to that, kid. Whatever gets you through the night.”  
There was silence between them.  
Dean said, “So why exactly does that jockhead thinks you’re a witch, anyway? I bet he has never even met one.”   
Kit felt her heart sank to the pit of her stomach and she took a quivering breath. Dean, noticing her sudden discomfort, raised his eyebrows but he backed down. “Forget about it.”  
But she couldn’t because in the past years she had been struggling with it, never had she had this much strain trying to push back on the lid that contained the memory from rearing its ugly head out. And to have him, in such close proximity again was just aggravating. She knew that to be able to get through this mess was to finally being able to deal with it, with the knowledge that she was stuck with Michael and the rest for the next few days, maybe even longer till they figure out what was happening and find James. She just wanted to find her dad, and that was the one thing she held on tight when decided to open up to this stranger who she was learning to get acquainted.   
Kit took a deep, steadying breath. “It happened about five years ago…”

Five years earlier…

“You kids still awake?”  
Dad poked his head in the flap of the tent, grinning ear to ear, bearing mugs of hot chocolates with puffs of marshmallows in them. He handed the one with the most marshmallows to me, the other to Mikey who quickly took it to warm his hands. I gave him a knowing grin, a sideway glance that only he would have understood what I was implying. He rolled his eyes subtly.  
“Thanks, dad,” I said, blowing on the drink gently.   
“No problem, Kitten,” he replied, still half sitting, half squatting by the tent’s entrance, looking from me to Mikey then back again. “So, what are you guys doing next?”  
I groaned. “You can leave now.”  
Dad chuckled. “Alright, alright. I’m leaving. Have fun.” He reversed himself out of the tent. “I’ll leave the back door unlock, just in case,” he hollered from outside as we listened to his footsteps disappearing into the house. “Goodnight!”  
A few seconds later, Mikey poked his head out and once he made sure the coast was clear, he took his mug, fished out his marshmallows and dunk its content onto the grass by the side of the tent. He stuffed the marshmallows in his mouth, chewing on them messily as he came back in, zipping up the tent.   
I laughed. “You could’ve just told him you don’t like it and he wouldn’t have made one for you. That was a waste of good chocolate, you know.”  
“It’s not the chocolate I hate, Kitten,” replied Mikey, using the pet name my dad gave me that only the two of them were allowed to use, wiping his sticky hands on his pyjama bottom. “I only drink-”  
“Cold ones,” I finished his sentence, resisting the urge to roll my eyes.   
For a moment, he watched me gingerly sipping on the hot drink, his green eyes dark in the dim lighting as we only had on an old oil lamp we found up in the attic from our last game of treasure hunting. Dad wasn’t keen on the thing being in the tent as accidents could happen but the usual flashlights both blew their bulbs out from one of Mikey’s stupid science experiment so we had the lamp down to its minimum. I don’t even know what he did to the flashlights, though. Aware that he was watching me impatiently, I decided to take as long as possible, exaggerating on blowing on the hot chocolate as if it was still hot. It was already lukewarm enough but watching Mikey getting antsy was amusing.   
“Dude, seriously?” he whined, clearly annoyed, pushing back his blond fringe from his eyes. “Hurry up!”  
I set the mug down next to me, its content drained only by a quarter, and rubbed my hands together to preserve the warmth. I drew my legs up and hugged my knees, subconsciously flipping back my hair with one finger.   
Mikey reached out for his backpack and rummaged through the stuff he had brought over for the sleepover. He produced a black velvet pouch and I watched him undid the drawstrings and tipped the content in front of us – seven colourful marbles slightly bigger than the average size that he had purchased a few weeks back at a pawn shop for five bucks – and started arranging them in a circle. I really liked the marbles, they were very pretty to look at especially when they refracted the lights but in this dimness, they only twinkled dully. When he was happy with his arrangements, Mikey looked up at me with the excitement of a mischievous boy. I grinned back at him, only imagining that the look on my face mirrored his.  
“You’re ready?” I asked him in a hush tone. He only nodded fervently, making his hair fall back into his eyes and he quickly brushed them away.  
I looked back down to the arranged marbles and extended a hand over them, palm down, and focused, willing them to do as I wished. I could feel the energy coursing through my veins – I never could figure out whether it started from the pit of my stomach or produced by the thud-thud-thud of my heart or the light pulsing I felt on my temples – and rushing to the tips of my fingers. The marbles trembled slightly before the started rising off the floor of the tent. I heard Mikey’s sharp intake of breath. I glanced at him, noticing how his eyes lit up and his lips parted as he stared in amazement; the same look he always had for the past couple of months that we had been doing this in secret. I loved the feeling that gave me, a sort of mixed pride and joy as I managed to awe my best friend over and over again over.   
Once the marbles were a few inches off the ground, I started moving my hand to the side to make way for them to rise up higher. Mikey scrambled into his sleeping bag and once the marbles were a few centimetres from the top of the tent, I crawled into my sleeping bag too. Mikey was already snuggled in, his sleeping bag zipped up around him. He looked at me and then nodded once. I understood the signal, focusing to have the marbles stay at that height. With my other hand, palm upward, I summoned another type of energy that felt stronger than the first one. I felt the heat first before the small blue ember came to life in the middle of my palm. Once again, Mikey gasped. With the telekinetic power, I willed the ember to rise up as well, joining the seven marbles and settling in the middle of the circle. This was when the magic happens, to Mikey anyways: the marbles started to spin lazily and as they spun, the ember burned brighter. Refracted lights spilled from the seven orbs and onto the walls of the tent and as they spun in their circle, they created a beautiful mobile. Happy, I lay down and snuggled in.   
“Remember in the beginning, they would fall on our heads the moment you got sleepy?” I heard Mikey’s soft voice next to me. I took that a rhetorical question because yes, I do remember that. But with a lot of practice, I finally managed to keep them up there even when we both had fallen asleep. It was hard at first but somehow the part of me that did all that sort of stayed awake when I’m asleep; kind of the same way when you go to sleep with your mind on alert. Obviously I’d wake up the next morning without feeling rested.   
“It’d be so cool if your dad could see this,” said Mikey in that same soft voice, something he had been repeating since the first day.   
“He’ll kill me if he found out I even told you about this,” I answered back with the same answer I had given him that first day, referring to the powers.   
“Maybe you’re from Mars, Kitten,” he said and I could hear a hint of a smile in the sentence and I rolled my eyes.   
Silence.  
“Imagine the look on Hood’s face if he knows that you could kick his ass without you even raising a finger,” Mikey chuckled. I smiled too at the thought but that would never happen.  
“Hey, Kitten,” called out Mikey in the darkness.   
“Hmm?”   
“I’m kind of glad I dumped sand on your head back in kindergarten and you started crying and I had to bribe you to shut up with the cookie I stole from the jar before they gave me another time out because then we wouldn’t be here today,” he said softly. I turned my head to look at him. “Now forget I even said that, Constantine.”  
I smiled at him. “Sure. Whatever you say, Clifford.”  
“We’re pals, right? And we’ll always be together, right?” I said somewhat sarcastically, quoting from the movie Lion King that we both love so much.  
Mikey faked gagged and we both laughed.  
“I hate to say this,” Mikey said. “But, yes.”  
But, of course, back then we didn’t know what was going to happen the very next day in school.

***

“I hate peanut butter and jelly,” I exclaimed the moment I peered into my lunch bag, pulling a face and what my dad had packed me. He always seemed to forget everytime I told him that or he wasn’t even listening. I handed the bag to Mikey. “You can have it.”  
Mikey took the brown paper bag from me, pulled out the PB&J sandwich and transferred it into his own bag. He took out the banana from his lunch and placed it into mine before handing the bag over back to me. We made it to our lockers, which were conveniently side by side, just in time as the bell rang for first period.   
Mikey groaned next to me as he opened his locker. “I hate Science.”  
We got our books and made our way to class but as we were about to take our usual seats in the middle row, the teacher, Mrs Grant, grabbed me by the arm. “Kirsten, I need you to pair up with Freddy today, please, as he’s a little behind on experiments.” Before I could reply, she called out to another student. “Calum, you’re Michael’s lab partner today.”  
At the mention of the name, I whipped my head at Mikey only to find him grinning at me ear to ear wiggling his eyebrows. I couldn’t help but grinned back at him, knowing full well that Cecelia had been his crush since forever and by forever I meant last year when she moved here from London. To be honest, I wasn’t so keen on her; she had this air of someone who was above everybody else and she had this constant disgusted look on her face. But Mikey was just besotted. I rolled my eyes at him.  
I looked around the room trying to locate Freddy and found him in the back near the window. My eyes wandered to the row behind him and my hope faltered; there, sitting behind Freddy and looking like he was dragged here sat Calum Hood, silently watching his friends, Luke Hemmings and Ashton Irwin, joked around next to him.   
“Get to your seats, people, come on,” addressed Mrs Grant, clapping her thick hands together which made me jumped slightly and hurried over to my new lab partner. Sitting down, I took out my seventh grade Science textbook and flipped to the page that was indicated on the board.   
Half an hour later, while everybody was in the middle of their own experiments – I was having a hard time explaining the whole acid/base concept to Freddy who seemed to space every three seconds – Mrs Grant announced that she needed to take a call outside and requested us to carry on. The moment she was out the door, the whole class erupted in loud chatters like that of a radio that had been playing softly in the background and suddenly been turned on full volume. Up ahead, I saw Cecelia got up from her seat and walked over to her usual group of friends.   
Warning Freddy not to touch anything of our experiment – mine, actually, since he didn’t do much work – I walked up over to Mikey and sat in Cecelia’s seat.   
“Well?” I asked him with an eyebrow raised, giving him an amused look.  
Mikey sighed dreamily, slumping forward in his seat. “She smells like vanilla.”  
I resisted the urge to groan. “I saw how much she helped with the experiment which is none. You did most of the work, Mikey,” I commented, annoyed.  
Mikey shrugged. “She said she just had her nails done so I told her I’d do it.”  
I laughed almost drily, sympathetic yet exasperated by how my best friend could be so pathetic when it comes to girls he liked especially when he had a habit to fall for the ones I liked the least. “Dude, seriously,” I said under my breath.  
Mikey had produced a penny out of his pocket and was twirling it around on the table. “Did you notice how her hair kind of shimmered in the light?” he gushed, his eyes fixed on the penny. “She’s the prettiest girl I’ve ever known.”  
“Wow,” I mumbled, a little hurt by his words but he didn’t seemed to have heard me.  
“I think I’m in love,” he added, and if emojis existed in real life, I could have sworn I saw hearts in his eyes and that made me felt sick with annoyance.   
“Well, she might be pretty,” I pointed out, taking the penny as it clattered flat on the table, “but can she do this?”   
I placed the penny in the middle of my palm and slowly the penny started to rise a little before it started spinning full speed, creating the illusion of a bronze sphere in my hand. Mikey laughed heartily, clearly amused as his eyes were fixed on the spinning penny.   
“Oh. My. God.”  
A voice right by my shoulder caught me by surprise and in my shock, I dropped the penny onto the floor as I bolted up straight and turned around, only to find myself face to face with Cecelia with her blue eyes wide in horror and her mouth hanging open. Right behind her was Calum. Apparently, she had spoken pretty loud as every head was turned in our direction and a hush had fallen over the whole class. Somewhere under the floor, I could hear the penny still rolling around on the linoleum and as the blood rushed from my face, I pictured the penny rolling around forever, never being able to stop itself.   
“Hey, Cece,” Mikey addressed from behind me but his voice were full of hesitation. “She’s just here for a-”  
“How did you that?!” she demanded me, ignoring Mikey altogether as if he had never spoken. Both hers and Calum’s friends had come closer, standing by her sides and wearing the same look Cecelia had on her face: a mixed of fear, insecurity and, for some reason, anger.  
“Do what?” I croaked. My throat felt dry and my tongue felt like sandpaper. She didn’t see she didn’t see she didn’t see she didn’t see. I repeated those three words in my head like a mantra.   
“Don’t act stupid, Constantine,” she spat back in her high shrill voice. She crossed her arms across her chest. “I saw that. The penny.”  
“Witch!” called out Calum who had stepped up to stand next to Cecelia. “You’re a witch!”  
I shook my head, more in disbelief than in denial. “I’m not a witch,” I replied but my voice didn’t come out loud enough.   
“Is that why you live in that house at the edge of town?” Cecelia was saying again in a mocking tone. “So you can practice your black magic.” Then she looked at Mikey behind me. “Probably you got Clifford there under a love spell or something. Witch!”  
I turned around to look at Mikey but he was staring at Cecelia. His mouth was working to say something but nothing came out. “Leave him out of this!” I retorted, my voice coming back to me.   
“Or what?” Cecelia raised her eyebrows.   
“Witch, witch, you’re a witch,” chanted Calum with a smirk on his face. The next thing I knew, the whole class was joining him.  
“WITCH, WITCH! YOU’RE A WITCH! WITCH, WITCH! YOU’RE A WITCH! WITCH, WITCH! YOU’RE A WITCH! WITCH, WITCH! YOU’RE A WITCH! WITCH, WITCH! YOU’RE A WITCH!”  
I turned around again to look at Mikey, hoping for support but he just stood there, looking pained and confused. I noticed he wasn’t looking at me but somewhere beyond my shoulder and I knew in an instant that he had his eyes on Cecelia. In that moment, it felt like someone had punched me in the gut. Tears stung my eyes and it was the way he was acting that hurt more than the chanting that was growing ever louder. He was looking down at his feet, probably guilty that he couldn’t or wouldn’t defend me. Somehow, that sparked a rage in me.

…

“The next thing I knew the rows of Bunsen burners that were lined on a shelf nearby blew up.”  
The sun had set and darkness was all around. It was a lot chillier now but Kit ignored the biting wind. There were no stars tonight and the sky looked naked and bare, with the moon hidden behind a cloud. Dean had been silent throughout the time Kit recalled him the story, contemplative on his own. He had his hands under his armpits, keeping them warm from the cold night air.  
“Michael was closest to the shelf and he suffered second degree burn on the left side of his face and arm,” Kit explained, her low voice sounding so loud in the silence of the night. “No one really knew how they exploded but I knew. We both knew and the rest of the class suspected as well. But the authority didn’t and obviously no one would believe a bunch of twelve-year-olds telling them that a girl did it with ESP.”  
Kit forced a laugh.   
Dean said nothing.  
“I went to see Michael when he was hospitalised.” Kit heart constricted at the memory, her eyes glazing as she stared out into the dark water below her. “I offered to heal him but he wouldn’t even speak to me, didn’t even want to look at me. The next time I saw him, he was a part of Calum’s group of friends and we were, by default, strangers. Until a couple of years back when he first talked to me again. But I never quite forgive him for betraying me and what’s stopping him from doing it again. Did you know he used to follow me and my dad on hunting trips?”  
“He was a hunter?” asked Dean, turning to look at me.  
“Sort of. My dad was training us both and he was always in charge of the shotgun since he was bigger than me,” said Kit, looking down at her feet. When she looked up again, Dean was still staring at her but in the dark, she couldn’t quite make out his expression.   
They shared another silence.  
“C’mon,” said Dean after awhile, putting a hand on Kit’s shoulder and guiding her away from the edge of the dock. “We should get back.”  
Kit nodded meekly, the memory still reverberating in her head and heart. The loss she felt that day now refreshed anew, along with the guilt she carried all these years for hurting and driving away the only friend she ever had. Even though it was clear it wasn’t entirely her fault, she blamed herself for losing control in that one moment of pure blinding rage and hurt. And now Michael carried a reminder of the day in the form of a scar on his left temple that will never go away, partly because it wasn’t just the fire from the explosion but also her own fire.   
Kit let Dean led her towards the car, keeping close to him for warmth and comfort as he had his arm across her shoulder. As they were about to reach the Impala, a rustling of branches to their right caught their attention. They stopped dead in their tracks, listening for any more movements. They exchanged looks.   
“Stay here,” Dean commanded, reaching for his gun and walking carefully towards the spot where they heard the sound came from. Kit had a bad feeling as if they were being watched by more than a pair of eyes and she didn’t sit well with Dean going in alone.  
“Dean, I think we should go,” announced Kit, feeling restless by the second.   
Dean reached the edge of the wood, peering into the darkness. Another rustling came further in the trees, followed by a low growl. Immediately, he cocked his gun and stepped into the trees, pursuing the sound and, most importantly, his instinct to kill.  
“Dean!”


	9. Chapter 8

Kit watched in horror as Dean disappeared from sight, unsure of whether to pursue him or obeyed his order to stay put. The latter seemed highly unlikely but fear and shocked were still in her system that she was still standing there rooted to the spot. Her eyes travelled from the spot Dean were merely seconds ago to the Impala, knowing full well that Dean had left his keys in the ignition when they arrived earlier. To help or to get help?  
A gunshot rang somewhere in the trees and that brought senses back into her as she sprinted into action. She raced forward to where she thought she heard the gunshot, praying that it was Dean who fired, mentally cursing herself for taking so long to react. The trees weren’t too dense but the darkness cast by the canopy above inhibit her from seeing any more than three feet away. But as she was robbed of her sight, her other senses heightened. She heard noises somewhere further up to her left and rushed forward, using her arms to swat away any low branches in her way. One snapped back and grazed her cheek. She ignored the stinging, focusing on getting to Dean.  
She stopped again, listening for any more sound. Her heavy breathing was the only thing she heard as she whipped her head left to right frantically looking for any other leads as to where Dean could be. He could be fighting for his life right now and you’re too useless to even find your way to him!   
“Dean!”   
No response.  
Then she felt it.   
It started with the prickling of the hairs on the back of her neck rising to attention and it travelled down her body, sending cold shivers to every inch of her skin. She froze in place, not daring to even breathe. She sensed it – no, she sensed them – watching her from beyond the darkness. She did a mental check: three of them, a pack. The smell of wet dogs invaded her senses, prowling in the trees. A low growl sounded dangerously close and she calculated her chance of escape.  
KIT! KIRSTEN! I SWEAR TO GOD I’LL KICK YOUR ASS IF YOU DON’T GET HERE!  
“What the…?”  
A movement somewhere behind her made her turn around just in time to catch the woman that jumped onto her, mouth drawn back to expose the sharp fangs that were aimed at her throat. They fell to the ground, the werewolf on top, and Kit struggled to keep her at arm’s length away from her face. The woman’s claws dug into her arms and she bit her tongue from screaming out as she fought for control. One hand slipped from Kit’s grip and slashed her across the face. She screamed then, the blood dripping into her eye. In that split second, she managed to kick the werewolf aside and they both scrambled to their feet, standing three feet apart in a fighting stance facing each other.  
That was when the other two appeared in a wide half circle around Kit, fangs bared and claws at the ready. The stinging on her face where the woman had clawed her were slowly ebbing away and that was when Kit noticed the look on her attacker’s face had changed from feral to one of confusion as she cocked her head to one side. The corner of Kit’s mouth twitched into a sneer as the last wound on her face healed up. She wiped the blood that was dripping down her forehead with the back of her hand.  
“You’re not the only ones who can do that, bitch,” snarled Kit in renewed confidence. She wished she had silver with her but she had come with Dean unarmed. Thinking about Dean who God knows what happened to him made her felt sick with worry.  
Without any warning, the pack rushed forward, their claws and teeth bared and animalistic screams emitting from their throats, charging at Kit in full force with looks of death in their feral eyes. Kit, whose thoughts had strayed to Dean in that short moment, were caught off guard and the only thing she managed to do in an attempt to protect herself was throwing her arms up in front of her, covering her head.   
A blast of fire caught the pack of werewolves and sent them flying into the air and crashing into nearby trees. Slowly, Kit lowered her arms, half surprised, half baffled by what just happened. She saw the three werewolves slumped unconscious against a tree each about a hundred metres away and the sight was odd to her. Realisation dawned on her as she finally took in her surrounding: where there were trees surrounding her awhile ago was now stripped of anything standing up to where the werewolves lay, as if the whole one hundred metres had been hit with a mini nuclear that wiped the expanse of the distance between her and her assailants.   
Dean!   
The name popped out in her head like the gunshot she heard earlier, reminding her she needed to find him before it was too late. She had heard him calling her, didn’t she? But which direction did that came from again? She concentrated as best she could in her panic state of mind, willing for him to call out again just to ensure her he was still breathing. Oh God, please.

…

Son of a bitch!  
The gun went flying out of his hand, landing somewhere on the ground but Dean didn’t have time to grab at it as he was tackled sideways, knocking the breath out of him. The hideous thing was trying its best to snap at his throat, the rows of sharp fangs merely inches from Dean’s face. He was turned sideways, grunting and struggling under the weight of the creature, pushing with all his might to get it off of him. If only he could find his gun…  
But then the creature turned tactics and stopped trying to use its fangs. It slightly leaned back slightly but was still resilient against Dean’s pushing and extended a hand forward instead. Dean at first didn’t realised this but then he noticed the sharp thing protruding from its wrist, growing longer and longer, aiming right at the base of his own head. Turned sideways like this, its aim was as easy as poking a straw into a juice box and the thought made him pushed against the damn thing harder. But Dean was trapped, pinned underneath the creature and as its spike extended longer, he screwed his eyes shut and waited for the pain to come.   
But it didn’t. He heard approaching feet and the next thing he knew, the thing was flying off of him and crashed into the trees somewhere in the dark. He panted heavily, relief that once again he had escaped death. He looked up and saw a dishevelled Kit staring down at him, the collar of her plaid shirt bloodied yet no sign that she was hurt. Her shoulders relaxed as she saw that he too wasn’t badly harmed.   
“Good timing, kid,” Dean breathed.

…

Relief washed over her and a grin spread on her face as she watched Dean get to his feet, brushing his hands. She looked around then and finally noticed the other three dead bodies. On closer inspection, she saw their fangs glinting in what moonlight that managed to shone through: vampires. Her forehead creased a bit but didn’t have time to process as Dean had asked her to help find his gun.   
“It’s somewhere around- ooff!”  
Kit whipped around in time to see the vampire that had been on Dean just over a minute ago sprang from the darkness onto him once again and was latching to his back. Her hand – for it was a she with her frizzy hair wild about her face as Dean tried to shake her off – were wrapped tight around Dean’s shoulders and hugging him to her with her legs. Her mouth opened wide, revealing the pointy fangs within.   
“The gun!”  
Scrambling to her hands and feet, Kit tried to locate Dean’s .45 calibre Colt on the ground but it was difficult when all she could see was black. She felt the ground like a blind man who had dropped his cane and now couldn’t find it and panic was rising in her with every passing second. Where the hell is it?!  
“Hurry!”  
Dean’s strangled voice put her into a frenzy but all her hands found were dirt ground and occasionally prickly brush. And then something hard brushed against her left little finger and quickly she grabbed at it, the smooth, cold metal registering as a gun, before turning around in a dizzying spin to face the pair, the gun cocked and aimed.   
But she was too late.  
The moment she raised the gun, the vampire hissed once more and in one swift movement plunged her razor fangs deep into Dean’s throat, eliciting an agonized scream to spill from the hunter’s lips. Dean, in the throes of pain and blood soaking into his shirt, had saw the glint of the barrel in Kit’s trembling hands and in a last minute attempt to defeat it, turned around so that the vampire’s back was to her. A gunshot rang in the air but the vampire still held on. Dean was getting weaker but he forced his feet to keep upright when Kit fired again. And again. And again.  
The vampire finally loosened her grip and with a shriek, fell to the ground, dragging Dean along with her. Kit watched as the vampire easily pushed Dean off of her and turned her attention to Kit instead. Silver doesn’t work on vampires, that much she know, but the creature was actually hurt by the bullets. Kit thought that odd and as the vampire advanced on her like a predator stalking its prey, she wondered how Dean had managed to kill the other three when obviously he didn’t have a machete on him. Did he? But apart from the massive amount of blood, the heads looked intact.  
They moved in a slow circle: Kit, with the gun still raised, slowly approaching Dean while the vamp, fangs bared and blood covered the bottom half of her face, trailed her from five feet away, their eyes locked onto one another. When she reached Dean, she heard him still wheezing and gasping for air, one hand clutched on the wound but it didn’t do any good; blood was still spurting, covering his hand and creating a small pool underneath him. Dean let out a cough a few times, gurgling from the blood that was coming out of his mouth as well. It took her awhile to figure out that he was trying to say something.  
“Anjhh…” cough “jsstt” cough cough wheeze cough  
Kit’s forehead creased, not comprehending him. Her heart hammered in her chest but she needed to get rid of the vampire before she could do anything else.   
“Anjhh…angel…jsstt,” he gurgled, clearly in pain.   
“Angel…juice?” Kit mused under her breath, the cogs in her brain working so damn slow when she couldn’t focus on more than trying to keep the vamp away from them, awat from Dean. “Angel juice.”  
Finally, it clicked into place. How, Kit will never know but something in her made her uncocked the gun and lowered it. Something took over her then because she knew for a fact that she was calm when she had been panicky seconds ago. She raised her chin in a challenge and the vampire took that welcomingly, hissing and spitting, teeth bared once more. She charged, running headlong, arms out in a way a lion would when it is about to catch the meal of the day.  
Something on the vamp’s hands caught her eye but before she could register what it was, she watched her own extended out in front of her as if commanding the vamp to stop. But instead of that, a bright white light burst out soundlessly, enveloping them, and the wood that had been pitch black just now was flooded with light starting from where Kit stood as its focal point moving outward in a wide circle. It only lasted for three seconds and when it dimmed and then finally died down, the vampire lady was flat on her back. If the place was still lighted up like a second ago, Kit would have seen how the vamp’s eyes were nothing but too charred holes.   
But Kit was already kneeling next to Dean, scrabbling to get her hands under his armpits. She pulled him up in a sitting position and placed him against one of the tree trunks, emitting a groan from Dean who was still clasping his neck wound, his eyes in and out of focus. His shirt was soaked through with blood and so were her hands as she tried to pry his off of the wound.  
“Shhh…” she cajoled him, trying to be as gentle as possible. “Let me see.”  
Dean, who was barely conscious didn’t put up much a fight and Kit knew she was losing him by the second. The wound was deep as the vampire had managed to puncture the carotid, the main neck artery, and Dean had lost a lot of blood and was still losing it. Kit needed to act fast.  
Heal him.  
Before her brain could process the words, her hand was already working according to them, hovering just centimetres above the wound. Once again, a white light emitted from the palm of her hand but it wasn’t the same one that had killed the vampire. This time, as opposed to the one before which had felt ungodly rogue, this one pulsated warmly almost in the same beat as a heart would normally pump blood; almost as if it was pumping life itself into the dying hunter.  
It took a few seconds but the wound finally closed up and the colour returned to Dean’s face. He was breathing regularly now and the messy shred that was his neck awhile ago looked as if it had never been torn opened. The only thing to prove that it had even happened was the state of his shirt and the blood was all over his and her hands. Slowly, Dean’s eyes fluttered opened.  
“Hey,” she breathed out, relief washing over her.   
He blinked up at her, his hand automatically flying up to his neck. His eyes widened just a fraction before he relaxed again as if understanding what had happened. He seemed to be doing a mental check to see if anything else hurt and when nothing did, he looked up at her again, exhaling deeply, his shoulders relaxing.  
“Thanks,” said Dean, his voice raspy and raw. Kit nodded, standing up and holding out a hand. He took it and she helped him up.  
“Here.” Kit held up the Colt to Dean, the silver carved barrel glinting in the moonlight whenever it caught it. “Sorry I took so long,” she added, smiling grimly at him in an attempt at humour.   
Dean took the gun, scrutinised it as if to check for scratches and then slipping it back into the back of his waistband. He placed a hand on her shoulder as they tried to find their way out of the place. “I could say we’re even now.”


End file.
